Land Before Time: Voyage through time
by H.G.Wells
Summary: Our five favourite dinosaurs have been taken prisoner by one of the most lethal special forces on Earth - the soviet spetznaz. And they mean business. Chapter 11 is up!
1. Chapter 1

**Land Before Time - Voyage through time**

**Chapter One**

_North Atlantic, 1983 A.D._

_Soviet Navy Submarine TK-95, Typhoon class SSBN_

The massive ballistic missile submarine moved effortlessly through the dark ocean, pushed along by its double shafted nuclear engine. Bigger than a Second world war aircraft carrier, she could be mistaken for some unknown monster of the deep by anyone who glimpsed her underwater. In a way, she fitted that description.

And 1st class Captain Roman Vladimirovich Pudovkin was proud to command her. He gave necessary commands calmly and steadily, directing the 24,5000 tonne SSBN carefully through the North Atlantic, towards her destination just off the tip of Greenland. From here he would enter the assigned patrol area, where in the event of nuclear war he would launch his missiles. But not only did he have to be wary of sea ice or possible reactor failiure, but detection by prowling western subamrines.

Fortunately, he was close to his destination. Still, caution was necessary.

"Put her into silent running" he ordered. "We don't want anyone to find out where we patrol."

The huge stern props slowed, and ran at an alomst undetectable speed. The _TK-95 _was cruising smoothly through the icy waters, the only audible sound being the rush of water along her hull.

"Captain, we have a contact 10 miles to our rear, starboard!"

It was the sonar officer who had spoke. Through use of passive sonar, the hydrophones identified the contact.

"American. _Los Angeles _class SSN."

The crew fell silent. Any audible sound could give them away. The Captain whispered first.

"Is he following us?"

"Yes sir. He is keeping parallel with our course."

"Whats the terrain like?"

The sonar officer took a scan of the sea bed.

"There is an underwater canyon sir. We should fit in. But we cannot proceed all the way along. It ends in a submarine tunnel. There's no way out of that."

"Very well. Bring us into that canyon, just outside the tunnel entrance. Then we go to all-stop. Hopefully he won't find us. And keep those engines quiet!"

Orders were conveyed to the planesman, and the _Typhoon _sank into the canyon, going as deep as possible without striking the seabed. Quietly as she could, the sub then porceeded along the length of the trench, finally coming to what seemed like an immense submarine archway - the tunnel entrance. Even the mighty _TK-95 _was dwarfed.

"My God sir, its huge!" said the sonar officer. "I've never seen anything like it!"

"The ocean can surprise you, comrade Lieutenant. Just try not to get carried way." Captain Pudovkin then gave another order. "Keep her steady and level. All stop. Withdraw the towed aerial."

The giant boat hung in the water, its propellers dormant. It was almost silent now. The towed array used for sending and receiving low-frequency radio signals was withdrawn, ending the last signal.

"Is he still following us?"

"Contact is four miles off our starboard. He's headed directly for us."

The silence prevailed. Then louder engine sounds from above were heard on the hydrophone.

"Contact is one mile off our starboard, headed directly over us."

"Contact is exactly 200 metres above us, heading directly ahead."

A long silence ensued.

"Contact is now two miles off our port, heading straight ahead."

"Has he tried to ping us?"

"No sir."

A huge sigh of relief. The American was clearly heading away from them, and had not noticed their prescence. _TK-95 _had escaped detection, and that made Pudovkin proud.

"Well done men. We'll wait a little longer until he's far way from us. Then we'll get out of this trench. We don't want to kepp our escort waiting at the RV point."

He had been ordered to rendezvous with an attack submarine, a Victor III, which would provide escort in the patrol area. Unfortunately it would be kept waiting much longer.

The suddenly lurched, knocking the captain off his feet. He staggered back up.

"What was that!"

"Abnormal currents detected sir! It looks like a malestorm!"

"That's impossible! Malestorms don't spring up from nowhere!"

"The data spells it out sir! It's pulling us into that tunnel!"

Pudovkin had no inkling of what was happening, but what he did know was that his boat was out of control, caught in strong currents, and listing badly. Immediate action was necessary.

"Blow all main ballast tanks! All back full!"

"Yes sir!"

But the currents were to strong. In additon, the boat had been whirled around, so putting the engine in reverse only drove them deeper into the tunnel and the powerful current. The navigator had time to bark this out. The captain barked back.

"Then turn us around!"

This porved catastrophic. As the boat spun round, it smashed into the walls of the tunnel, sharp rocks piercing its hull, tearing away at the structure.

"Hull breach!"

Efforts were made to close the watertight doors, but it was too late. Thousands of tonnes of seawater flooded into the _Typhoon's_ two pressure hulls, swamping everything and everyone, including the control room, where Captain Pudovkin barked the last desperate orders to save his command. But the boat was now doomed. Realising this, he gave a final order to his number one.

"Release the buoy."

A switch was pressed, and the small buoy carrying a radio beacon transmitting a distress signal was launched, with a hiss of compressed air. But it did not reach the surface. The current was so powerful it was carried along the tunnel with the doomed _TK-95_.

The current dragged the boat further down the tunnel, which swiftly dipped deeper, until the hull imploded. Bubbles of air rushed out of the tunnel entrance. Yet the sub continued down the tunnel until it finally emerged out of another great archway, in completely different surroundings.

Yet no one could know just by looking at the new landscape, in which the wrecked SSBN began to settle, where she had actually emerged. Until a small swimming animal appeared.

Looking at it from a distance, one may have mistaken the creature for a dolphin. But as it came closer, one could see that where a dolphin's tail would have been horizontal, the tail was vertical, like a fish. In addition, its beak was thinner and more triangular than dolphins. And it was not a mammal. However, nobody was alive aboard the _TK-95 _to observe it. But the creature observed the wreck with its mouth agape, stunned by this new wonder. It swam off rapidly to tell its comrades in shallower water, having left them to explore the deep. It did not notice a smaller object rise to the surface.

The buoy faithfully followed its pre-planned mission, rising to the surface, the only survivor of the disaster that had occured far below the waves. It finally reached the surface, and though its signal of distress chirped away, and its light flased visibly in the waves, no-one would respond to its cries for help in _this _ocean.

_Planet Earth, over 65 millon years B.C._

_Great Valley, longneck nest_

Littlefoot woke up with a fearful cry. His body was sweating and frozen, like it usually was from a nightmare. But somehow this nightmare had seemed more real than any other he'd had before. It was as if he had seen a current event played in front of his very eyes.

"Littlefoot, what is the matter?"

He looked up to see his grandfather and grnadmother towering above him.

"How did you hear me?"

"We heard you crying out in your sleep. Loudly, I might add." His grandfather said this with a yawn.

"Just a bad dream. It was underwater. There was some giant black monster in deep water. It crashed into some rocks and died. But I swear I heard people screaming inside it."

He was evidently very disturbed, and his grandparents noticed that. His grandma soothed him.

"We all have nightmares Littlefoot. But they never last forever."

"But it seemed so real!"

"Some dreams can" said his grandfather. "especially frightening ones. But is gone now. Fall asleep again and you'll be certain to have a good dream."

So Littlefoot went back to sleep. But he did not know at the time how real his dream had been.


	2. Chapter 2

**Land Before Time – Voyage through time**

**Chapter Two**

_Moscow, U.S.S.R., 1983 A.D._

_Soviet navy high command_

The massive double doors to the conference room were immense and ornate, craved from the finest oak by the finest carpenters. Above them hung a massive hammer and sickle, the national emblem of the Soviet Union, forged with what looked like Gold. The naval command centre was as grand as any Tsarist palace.

Two sentries were on duty outside the door, stiff as suits of armour. A uniformed naval officer, highly ranked, came striding down the corridor towards the conference room. The sentries immediately clicked their heels and saluted.

"Greetings comrade Captain Rankov. You are permitted entry."

The guards opened the fine double doors, and 1st class captain Vasili Sergeyevich Rankov strode into the room. He had recently been promoted and approved command of an _Alfa_-class submarine, _K-128 K.K. Rokossovsky_, which had only been launched a year ago, and had completed her sea trials a week before. He felt that it was unwise to rush such an advanced submarine to sea, but since many boats of this type had been built and operated before, and given the current political climate, it must have seemed necessary to the leadership.

However, he was not entirely sure of the decision of the high command to appoint himself as a commander, at 34-years old. His predecessor had been dishonourably discharged after a drinking scandal, in which he ended up in a bar fight with a local party official in Murmansk, one of the main bases of the Soviet Northern fleet, in which both came off very badly. While it soon led to great stories among the men, the high command was furious, and the captain was removed in disgrace. But while he had behaved unacceptably, Vasili was convinced that the high command had their arms twisted behind their backs by that official and his cronies in the party (it was believed he had delivered the first punch), since Captain Kukov was a valuable asset – he had commanded several boats before _K-128, _had vast experience and was well respected by the men, and much of the Northern fleet.

In contrast, Rankov was young, inexperienced as a captain and was so freshly promoted he had not even seen his first command, or met any of the men. While he had served as an executive officer for years, he was not confident that he was qualified to be a submarine commander, even though he had wanted the job. He remembered the words of his mother: "Be careful what you wish for. You might get it." He scolded himself for feeling this way. Maybe it was just nervousness with regards to his first command. A good commander requires confidence in his abilities, he reminded himself. He had been trained by the best, especially his former commanding officer. He knew the navy well, and was a seasoned submariner, and had been respected by the crews he had served under. He just hoped he could do the same for this new one, who entrusted their very lives to him.

His family had a proud tradition in the Soviet military. One grandfather had been a submarine commander in the Baltic, and the other a tank commander at Stalingrad and Kursk during the great patriotic war, but had fortunately been far away from Smolensk, where the rest of the family lived, when it was invaded by the Nazis. His mother had escaped the destruction to Moscow, but his father and uncle had been left behind. They had escaped into the forests and joined the partisans, among whom they fought life-threatening battles against the invaders. They assisted, along with thousands of others, in halting the advance on Moscow. From there they had joined the main army, and had fought all the way from Moscow to Berlin – at least his father had. His uncle had not been so lucky. His father survived the war as an officer with a range of medals, including the title of "Hero of the Soviet Union", which he received twice. He was re-united with his mother in Moscow at victory day, after both had believed each other to be dead. Both of Vasili's grandfathers, however, had not been so lucky, and were buried alongside his uncle. The war had scarred the Rankovs physically and psychologically as it had for the whole country. It particularly affected his father, who suffered great trauma I his later years.

But Vasili had read about his families adventures, and despite his father's protests, he left Smolensk to join the armed forces, seeing no other purpose in remaining where he was, or any hope of great achievement. Having always wanted to go to sea, since he had spent all his life in a landlocked industrial city, he joined the navy, and was assigned to the submarine force. Since then he had worked his way up through the ranks, serving on nuclear submarines and being trained heavily in the profession until finally being made a commander. Now his experience would be put to the test.

d.o his first command.he had wanted the job. He scolded himself for feeling this way. MAfter being approved command, he had been quickly put on the train for Moscow, and then taken the metro to the navy command, where he would be briefed on his first mission. As with his first command, they had obviously rushed the whole process, which signalled to him that the mission had to be extremely important for him to be rushed to sea this quickly. The fact that he had been called to Moscow rather than the Northern fleet H.Q. told him that this briefing would be taken at the highest level. Had the Politburo itself planned this mission? If so, he would have to consolidate his new rank and command fast, since this assignment was clearly of great importance.

This meeting would not be a big one. He saw only three other officers besides himself. The first he recognised, to his surprise, was Marshal Dmitriy Ustinov, the defence minister of the U.S.S.R. since 1976, ancient in years and close to death, like most of the Soviet leadership. Rankov saw this as confirmation that this was a high level mission.

Standing next to him was the man who had become an icon of the Soviet navy around the world, mentioned everywhere from _Pravda _to _Time _magazine, lionized by his open statement to the press: "The flag of the Soviet navy now proudly flies over the oceans of the world. Sooner or later, the U.S. will have to understand that it no longer has mastery of the seas." Admiral Sergey Gorshkov, commander-in-chief of the Soviet Navy – the man credited for giving the Soviet Union virtual dominance of the world's oceans, making it a naval power that came close to the Royal Navy during the heyday of the British Empire.

Finally, there was the now grey-haired commander of the Northern fleet, Admiral Vitaly Nevsky, whom Rankov had served under aboard a _Delta_-class SSBN, _K-256_. It was he who Vasili saw as being his mentor when he had served under him as his number one. Nevsky had been well respected by his crew and officers, due to his calm, quick decision making, skilled naval tactics and leadership, and his brilliant human qualities. Some younger men were comforted by the cool and collected way he approached a problem – none had ever heard him shout or get angry – rarely his voice would even darken, but instead of shouting he either ribbed his men mercilessly through his wonderful sense of humour, or by calmly lecturing them, or by just constantly challenging their minds sternly, pushing them until he got an answer. He knew the submarine trade well, having served in the navy since the Second World War. He had trained much of the officer corps in the Northern and Baltic fleets, and was a valuable asset. Junior officers and regular sailors never hesitated to come to him for advice in their future careers, or even personal problems. Rankov remembered being very touched by advice and comfort that the captain had given to a sailor whose mother was dying, even offering to try to persuade command to secure him leave to be with his mother in her last days. Such qualities made him ideal as an admiral.

Another good reason why he was so respected in the Navy was not only because he could be recognised as a respectable authority figure, but because he was an independent thinker and commander, who disliked being given orders in the middle of the ocean by armchair strategists who are either hundreds of miles away, or simply know nothing about the navy or war. As far as he had been concerned, only he knew precisely what to do where he was, patrolling with almost Nelsonian independence. He had enough of what he called "do as you're told crap" from Moscow during his previous commands. For this reason among others, he utterly detested anything to do with the party – he himself never joined, having being promoted on experience, and status gained from his war service, where he was awarded "Hero of the Soviet Union" amongst other medals. He especially loathed political officers, who he often labelled as "little Brezhnevs" in private, seeing them as representatives of people who knew more about ideology than the real world. And they were frequently dishonest and cheating, like many in the party, whom Nevsky saw as seeing the armed forces as expendable as part of their own political games. They often got in the way of _real _sailors.

As far as Nevsky was concerned, the only people who deserved authority or respect in the armed forces were enlisted men, officers, admirals and captains. Especially if they were where the action was, could see what was happening, knew what to do and served each other and their country – not their own careers in the Communist party. He frequently rebuffed the "advice" of political commissars. As a result, he in turn was seen as a pain in the backside by the political establishment, including the KGB. What saved him was his respectability in the Navy, which earned him plenty of friends in the high command, including Admiral Gorshkov, an admirer of Nevsky's skills. This sent a message to the party that Nevsky was the best they had, so if they ever wanted to fight the U.S. Navy, they would have to do it his way.

Rankov even remembered his former captain saying "You know Vasili; I have more in common with the Americans than with those political arseholes. The enemy does try to intercept us, but they don't try to stop me from commanding this boat effectively, and trying to make me run it their way, on their orders." Luckily they had been out of earshot of the political officer, alone together. Nevsky trusted Rankov enough not to be an informer. But Rankov often wondered whether the senior officer was pushing his luck – he was skating on thin ice with the establishment. Still, his career under Nevsky had been the most memorable times of his life, and he hated having to leave them. Rankov's own views were influenced by his former captain, and the two remained close friends even when they parted from _K-256_.

They all noticed him immediately and Nevsky spoke first.

"Excellent to see you again, Vasili Sergeyevich. Unfortunately we had to meet in the middle of a crisis."

They both laughed, although Rankov did not know there was a crisis. Another reminder of the importance of this mission.

"I hope you know who both these gentlemen are?"

"Yes sir."

"Then you recognise the importance of this mission?"

"Yes sir."

"Very good. Let us sit down. The Coffee should be ready."

All four men sat down at a round oak table. A steward arrived and filled four cups on saucers with seething coffee before leaving the room. A briefing officer entered and stood opposite the table, with a map pinned to a board. Once all four men had a sip of coffee, the meeting began. Admiral Gorshkov spoke first.

"Comrade Admiral Nevsky recommended you to me. Sorry to rush you, but a critical situation has emerged. It could easily deteriorate into a major crisis."

Rankov listened attentively.

"What you are about to hear is completely classified as a state secret, and has not been released to any media outlet anywhere in the world. At 0300 hours this morning, Moscow time, we lost contact with one of our _Typhoon_-class SSBNs, the _TK-95_, off the coast of Greenland. We have not heard from her since. No S.O.S. or even a signal from the distress buoy. We are assuming that the boat was damaged so badly that neither action was possible. The last report told us she was taking evasive action from an American submarine. We have not confirmed if she was attacked. Our contacts in the U.S. Navy reported that the American submarine, a _Los Angeles_, heard her breaking up in an undersea trench. But whatever happened to her, she was lost with all twenty of her nuclear missiles."

Rankov could not believe what he was hearing. The _Typhoon _was the most advanced SSBN in the Red Fleet. It seemed incredible that once could be lost so easily. He had known Captain Pudovkin personally – the straight faced, moustached man who he had met in the officers mess in Murmansk a few times. He was a seasoned commander; the _TK-95 _had been his since she was first launched. He wasn't one to make a careless mistake. Could the Americans have sunk her? No, there would have been no reason. Even Reagan would not be crazy enough to fire on a Soviet missile submarine…

"The Americans know where she sank, and will want to recover anything they can find. One of our long-range reconnaissance aircraft detected two American submarines, a _Thresher _and a _Sturgeon_, heading towards the area. We also know that a DSRV left port recently, heading north towards Greenland. Evidently they also know, perhaps only vaguely, what happened, and wither hope to achieve a propaganda coup by rescuing our sailors, or boarding the boat and taking sensitive technology. They slipped away, and now they could be anywhere. The _Victor _SSN we sent to escort the _TK-95 _has remained in the area to try to find them, and we've also diverted two of our _Sierra_s to help him. But that's not your job."

He turned and nodded to the briefing officer, who pulled out a metal pointing baton, and tapped it on the map.

"After leaving port, you will proceed to the _TK-95_'s last reported position. The _Alfa _is the fastest we have, so you'll get there long before the Americans. Then you will investigate the wreck, and determine what happened. If you find any signs of life, you will report them and an _India_ rescue submarine will be dispatched to the area. Her last reported position will be revealed to you in the complete copy of the orders you will receive."

He pointed to a folder marked "For your eyes only".

"Travelling with you will be a Naval Spetznaz team of six. If ordered, and if you find no one alive, you will approve them to swim to the wreck on chariots and recover and arm a single nuclear warhead. This is Phase two of the mission. Phase three will involve the detonation of the warhead to destroy the wreck before it can be scavenged. Both will only be carried out under direct authorisation from Moscow, which will come direct from the Central committee and Politburo of the Soviet Union, the orders being directly approved by Comrade Andropov. The authorisation will only be issued if Moscow sees it necessary, depending on how the situation develops. You will only reveal the full details of your orders to your political officer."

To Rankov, this was crazy. A warhead detonation would not be done without consequences. It could destroy a nearby U.S. submarine, resulting in war. He just hoped the government would make the right decision. What particularly irritated him was that the party seemed interested in dictating his mission, and making him utterly dependant on them. Besides that, he was being ordered to keep secrets from his crew. At times like these, he wished he could be more like Nevsky. Then Ustinov spoke.

"I understand what you must feel about this mission. I and my colleagues in the government worked with the navy in writing those orders. But we sincerely hope you do not have to carry out those orders. They are only a precautionary measure, if the Americans become more aggressive. If they seize our technology, particularly the missiles, they will be able to gain a massive leap ahead of us in the arms race. We can't afford a missile gap, not at this time. Hopefully they won't go for it, if it is in deep water."

Vasili doubted that. Much of that area was shallow water. The Americans could make it. Geography was clearly not the party's forte, like most other skills.

"Do you have any questions?"

"Is the diplomatic option available? Can we pressure the Americans to leave the wreck alone, or convince them that it might be dangerous?" Rankov though he was pushing his luck by asking that. Maybe he was turning into Nevsky.

Ustinov shook his head. "Not possible. You know this administration. They cannot be trusted. They are prepared to pursue an aggressive policy no matter what. Our only choice is to face them off wherever possible. The Soviet people and people all over the world will be grateful to you for facing down this hawkish and reactionary regime."

Rankov was not reassured. Like Nevsky, he was not interested in that "party-line crap". Confrontation seemed almost inevitable, both internationally and between him and his masters. He was wished good-luck, and left with his folder of orders. He was then seen out by his former superior, who re-assured him constantly.

"This will not end in disaster Vasili, as long as you lead carefully and decide what is best."

"Vitaly Ustinovich, it will not be my decision. It will be the government's."

"I understand. I don't like how they've stolen this mission from us any more than you do. You knew I wouldn't. But they are not onboard your boat. Except in the form of those bastards they have as political officers. They can only approve decisions, you make them, and you decide what to report back. If you know what you are doing, then people around the world can sleep safe. One arrogant decision or careless mistake could eliminate that possibility for ever. And you know these party hacks. They make those sorts of decisions, you don't. That is one of the main burdens of leadership. And I am certain you can bear it. I realise this is your first command, but you must have faith you can achieve what you were trained for. After all, were you not taught by the best?"

Rankov smiled. "Yes sir. You taught me well."

"Excellent. _Dasveedahnya_ comrade Captain. And good luck."

They saluted each other, and the Captain left the building, into the cold Russian winter. Nevsky had always been his mentor, and he had always heeded his advice. It had always worked. Would it work the same _this_ time?

Rankov headed for the Moscow station, and boarded the train for Murmansk. He spent the rest of the Journey wishing he could be more like Nevsky.


	3. Chapter 3

**Land Before Time - Voyage through time**

**Chapter Three**

_Planet Earth, over 65 million years B.C._

_Somewhere in the Tethys ocean_

Mo had been silent for days. His pod had noticed. It wasn't difficult for them not to notice, given that he usually had a hyperactive, mischievous character. He had been that way since he had found…they did not know what to call the enormous, dark creature that now lay dead on the ocean floor, but there was something about it that they did not like – something sinister and unknown. They had permanently avoided it after that. They had told Mo to stay away from it. Maybe that was why he was now in his silent, sulky mood.

Unsurprisingly, it was. Since his encounter several days ago, Mo's mind had been crawling with questions. What was it? Where did it come from? Why was it here? Why had he not seen anything like it before? He had tried to think of what he had seen in his currently short life in the ocean, but none of it matched up to…the thing. It was unnatural, out of place, alone. There seemed to be no pod or herd of its own kind looking for it, at least, he had not seen them. It was an intruder into the world he knew, alien and mysterious in its very appearance. It didn't seem to be a sharptooth, or anything else that might want to kill him. But how could he know that if it was dead? How could he know how it lived?

In the end Mo realised that speculation was pointless if it was based solely on deduction, or at least, one small glimpse of…what he had seen, which provided limited induction. The only way to find out more would be to go back to the scene of the encounter, and find out what it was, by looking for evidence. But first he would have to find a way to get past his family. Luckily, they were still close to the area of the encounter, since there was substantial fish and squid to be found here. The pod was feeding on them greedily, including his mother. They would be distracted. But Mo needed an excuse, or rather, an explanation. He turned to his mother.

"Mama?"

"Yes dear?"

"Mo see more food over there. Can Mo go?"

"Of course, dear. But don't go far out. There could be sharpteeth. And we don't want a repeat of what happened the last time you went too far out."

A small smile came to Mo's face as he remembered the incident where he had met his land-dwelling friends, where he'd ended up stranded, and had to swim up several miles of river before returning to sea, harassed by a giant predator.

"No Mama."

"Good. Off you go! Be back after lunch!"

With a few sweeps of his vertical tail, Mo was soon speeding through the water. He headed where he had said he was going to, behind an underwater cliff face. This gave him his chance. As soon as he was out of sight behind the rock formation, he headed for the site of encounter, returning to the surface occasionally to breathe.

For much of the journey, the ocean looked very ,much the same as it always did, with cliff faces here and there, a sea floor of fine sand, schools of fish, blue rays from the bright circle in the water, colourful bits of seaweed here and there. But all of that changed once Mo reached the area of the mystery.

Here there was a region of massive and highly unusual undersea geology. Submarine trenches and canyons that extended for miles. Submarine cliffs, ridges and even mountains and extinct volcanoes that towered above the young sea creature. Rock formations that were twisted into bizarre shapes, many of which seemed to be mixed with encrusted with brine, which created spires which projected upwards into the water. The whole landscape was alien in its very appearance, even for the ocean, like a panorama from another planet, or another world located somewhere beyond anyone's knowledge or imagination. It was a fitting landscape for…the thing.

But what Mo found most mysterious was a great archway that seemed to be jut out of the ocean floor, encrusted on the top with massive boulders and ledges. He had never seen anything like it before. The opening evidently lead to a tunnel – but to Mo it was nothing more than a black hole, like the mouth of some great beast. Then a feeling of terrible fear gripped him, like some black clawed hand from the depths of his imagination, a fear that he often experienced in this ocean – the fear of the unknown.

The part of the ocean where it lay was deeper than the pod's usual haunts, but evidently shallow enough for light to illuminate the sea floor. Mo was thankful for this – he did not want to probe in the deep, dark depths that his parents told him about. It terrified him to be in the open ocean, and to look down on that constant darkness, wondering what was watching him from up there. He knew that predators, and whatever was down there that he didn't know about, swarmed in those areas. He didn't know for sure, and this increased his fear of dark, mysterious places. Hopefully there would be none here. But Mo couldn't help but experience those same feelings of fear when he looked into that tunnel. But he shrugged them off, and concentrated on the mystery he had discovered.

The rays of the golden light of the bright circle also meant that the…whatever it was Mo was looking down upon now, was easy to spot, lying on what looked like its side, resting on a ledge just in front of the arch way. What appeared to be its front end, an enormous rounded mass, was jutting out into the water and beyond where the support of the ledge ended, where the ocean floor dipped down almost vertically, and where a deep trench began, which seemed to flow from the mouth of the archway. However, enough of its great mass rested on the solid ledge to prevent it from tipping into the trench, where it would sink even deeper. Given its size, it was highly unlikely that anyone would accidentally make it fall into the trench – but Mo wasn't about to take any chances by going inside it.

If it had an inside.

Perhaps it was its dark exterior that intensified Mo's fear of the dark, and the unknown. He continued to do his best to ignore it. But what made him even more fearful were the creaks and groans that came from the massive body, as it was tottering on the edge of the deep, dark trench. They sounded like some demonic cries and screams, coming from the dark monster, but how could that be possible if it was already dead? He remembered hearing similar sounds when he first saw it sinking and settling down on the ocean floor. It may have still been in the process of dying, even when it had sunk to the bottom. Could still be barely alive now, experiencing a slow and painful death? The sounds sounded like cries of terror and pain, or perhaps of mockery, scoffing at Mo's feeble attempt to understand the unknown…

No wonder the others had been afraid of it. Mo scolded himself for ignoring their judgement, to come to this place of the unknown, which was now the lair of something which he could never hope to understand, and may not even want to, due to its sinister, unnatural appearance. But he plucked up its courage. If it was still dying, then it was a thing to be pitied, not feared. Even if it was a predator, it would be no threat to him in its current state. He swam closer.

He though about the groaning sounds. One look at the body from all sides and he didn't see any mouth that could produce them, or any mouth with sharp teeth. But there was no way of knowing for sure, since the mouth could be hidden. However, the entire mass seemed to be smooth, black (apart from some red markings on a large section that projected upwards from the main body) and almost featureless, save for a pair of fins near the front, the raised section at the far rear from which some odd broken stumps projected (they looked to Mo like a bug's antennae), and a tail, like any other marine animal. But the similarities ended there. Where there should have been a vertical curve-shaped tail like Mo's, or a horizontal fluked tail like some swimming long-necks and sharpteeth had, this tail was not only much larger and stockier (so short and stocky it didn't look like a tail at all, but a large stump) but it had four normal fins, and two very bizarre, circular bladed fins. Mo couldn't imagine what use for swimming they might be. The whole thing didn't look like a typical sea creature. Not only was there no mouth, but the thing didn't seem to have any eyes – perhaps it lived somewhere so dark that it didn't need them. But what astounded Mo was that it was far larger than any other creature he had seen, so large he simply could not compare it to scale with the largest animals the sea had to offer. It was so large size seemed to lose all meaning. The whole thing seemed to be an enigma. It did not match up with anything else in Mo's world.

Having decided that the nature of…whatever it was could not be determined visually, Mo decided to use his echo sense. He began series of clicks with his beak. Investigating it this way was difficult, as the clicks did not bounce off or did not present a clear picture in some cases, as if it was built to avoid echo sense. But once Mo produced stronger echoes, he soon got a clear picture. The thing was solid, and evidently very hard. It was harder than any animal flesh he knew off, harder than any of the crawling pinchers he occasionally saw on the sea-bed, or the hard floaters that he usually broke his teeth trying to eat. Then Mo discovered something he could not believe, so much so that he clicked twice.

The thing was hollow! Solid as the thing was, there was evidently some empty space within it, within the outer shell, although it was clearly flooded. What kind of animal was this? Mo thought about the hard floaters. They usually had a living chamber inside their shells, where the soft part of the creature lived. From here it snaked out its tentacles, grabbing whatever prey swam past. In addition, it had smaller chambers to stabilise itself, using air and water to control its descent and ascent in the sea. Could this be a larger relative of the same creature? Mo clicked further, and found that there were indeed many smaller hollow chambers, similar to a hard floaters shell, but on a much larger scale. Mo assumed that this creature lived in a similar way, rising and floating. It was evidently also able to swim well, judging by the fins – unlike the hard floaters, which simply rode the currents. This evidently made it a different creature in its own right.

Mo decided to investigate further. He swam towards the body, noticing that its appearance looked much more solid and smooth than any shell he had seen – there were no obvious shell patterns. He probed further, and felt the surface. It felt totally smooth, and very cold. It was more like a rock then a shell. It didn't have the feeling of something that had been alive, like the floaters whenever Mo felt them. He decided to push further, and struck the thing. At once he could tell it was much harder than a shell, even harder than a rock. Unlike a rock, it also produced a dull clanging sound when he hit it, like nothing he had heard before. It seemed to feel more solid and much more fine than rock.

But still Mo could not determine whether it was a dead animal, or something else – something not alive, yet hollow. Could it be a cave? If so, it certainly did not look like any normal cave. There was no obvious entrance, and it did not seem joined to the rock face, like caves usually are. It was completely free floating. Could it be an abandoned shell, belonging to an enormous creature that lived in shells like this? Mo did not know. The whole thing was completely unnatural and alien. He had very little confidence that he would ever understand it.

Maybe there was something in the area that could tell him more. Something separate from…whatever this giant was. He intensified his clicks, until they became wide-ranging.

At first Mo though this was a stupid decision. Any predator nearby would inevitably hear him. He just hoped there was no such predator. Then his clicks bounced back – they had detected something else close by.

Mo breathed a sigh of relief. It was too small to be any predator. And it appeared to be floating on the surface. To Mo's interest, it had the same feeling as the larger object – cold, solid and smooth. Judging from that, he knew it had to be related, and might help him in his investigation. With a few powerful flicks of his tail, he raced to the surface. He needed to do so anyway, in order to breathe.

He soon reached the area where the object was floating, poked his beaked head out of the water to breathe. As he did so, he spotted it on the surface – a rounded cylinder bobbing in the waves, almost like a log. But it seemed to be made out of the same cold, solid material as the bigger object. But what amazed Mo was that something on top of it was making a light, almost as bright as the bright circle which shone in the sky, and hurt his eyes when he looked into it. But instead of a constant shine, the light seemed to flash for a few seconds before disappearing, as if another bright circle, tiny in comparison with the one in the sky, was constantly rising and setting. Keeping his eyes out of the light that flashed, Mo dived to see the underside of this new mystery. Like the bigger object, there were red markings, both on the underside and the part exposed on the surface. Aside from that, the thing was featureless, almost like an unusual kind of shell creature.

Then Mo noticed that there was something on the underside – a large ring, made of the same cold, solid material. It was attached firmly to the main body, large enough for Mo to put his beak through.

It was at that moment that an idea clicked and lit up Mo's head. Using this ring, he could get hold of this thing, and bring it back to show the pod, as a way of investigating the mystery further. But then doubt set in. The pod had sworn never to speak or go near the mystery again. This would be no different, and they would inevitably leave this thing alone to. They would also be angry that he had dared another look at the black giant, let alone bringing something back from it, having disobeyed their orders. His mother would be furious if she found out how far he had gone out, where he had gone and that he had lied.

But this was incredible! It marked a new chapter in the world they lived in. For the first time, they had come into contact with something completely unknown, evidently completely separate form their own world. That great beast looked nothing like anything that existed in the world he knew, or that anyone else knew. Questions had to be asked, and needed answering, to understand truly what this thing was, and how much it could affect the world. At the moment, it didn't seem to affect it much. But what if there were more enigmas to come?

Mo held that thought. He could not show it to his family, for reasons already mentioned. Who else could he show it to?

Then he knew precisely whom. A group of friends he had made before, and who lived on shores not far from the territory of his own pod. He still frequently saw them on shore, during excursions he and his pod made to the estuary that lead inland. This estuary led to two places where he could reach his friends. One was a large river that ended in a huge waterfall, the other a subterranean channel that lead under the mountain walls, and into a small lake, with a small stream which, along with the waterfall, fed the river which provided the main water supply for the great valley.

Mo decided looked at his new find and decided that he would be able to fit it through the underground passage, since it was big enough. Getting it to Littlefoot, Cera and the others via the waterfall would be difficult, due to the height of the falls and the fact that the river that fed it led through what his land friends had called "the Mysterious beyond" which was infested with walking sharpteeth. He didn't like the idea of going through there. The underground route aloes had air pockets along the way, so he would not drown trying to reach the valley. And it was not far off - he could get the object to his friends and get back to the pod relatively quickly. He then made the decision. He grabbed the ring, and finding that the object was surprisingly light (which was why it floated) he began to tow it through the water.

"Mo found something weird" He said, his beak gripping the ring. "Mo friends need to see."

He headed inshore, and soon found the mouth of the estuary. Luckily for him, he encountered no predators along the way. If he had, it would have been difficult to escape, especially with this awkward thing trailing behind him. He found it was difficult to swim while towing it, but somehow he managed, and soon made it inland. He came up to the surface for a deep breath before undertaking his underground journey, and his eyes soon found the fortress-like mountain walls of the great valley, which kept out almost every possible threat, but not every possible _friend_. One could enter, if one knew how. And Mo knew how.

"Mo friends not far off now" he grunted through his ring muzzled beak. "Mo won't have to drag odd thing for long."

He then dived, dragging his bizarre discovery, and soon found the entrance to the underground channel. He swam through, and was soon on his way to his old friends.

_Great valley, nest area_

_Early morning_

It had been several days after Littlefoot's strange nightmare that he had not been able to explain. Had it been a vision of reality, a premonition of some kind? Littlefoot thought so; it had certainly felt like that. He had seen plenty of weird stuff before, stuff which could only be described as supernatural. The last two experiences had been the stone of cold fire incident, and the occasion when thousands of longnecks, including his grandfather and long lost father, had been drawn to one place because they all somehow _knew_ that they had to gather to keep the bright circle from falling from the sky. But his first and most memorable had been his experience when he first came to the valley. He remembered having some feeling of being guided by his mother – a voice inside his head, an inner feeling and strange cloud that had shown him the way to the valley, along with a faint voice calling his name. That memory had been very real to him, and had stirred up string feelings.

This experience had not been one of love, sorrow, joy or guidance, but of terror. What he had seen was like nothing he had seen - it was as if that dream should never have entered his mind - it was something that did not belong, the unknown. And that filled him with fear. But had a feeling it had to be real, and he would have to accept its existence, whatever it was. He remembered the words of his dear mother "some things you see with your eyes. Others you see with your heart."

She would have understood him. But who could he talk to now? His grandparents, while they were kind, understanding and supportive, did not quite share the same spiritualism and metaphysical wisdom and understanding of their late daughter. They had repeatedly assured him it was a nightmare, nothing more. As for his friends, they were divided. Petrie and Ducky never doubted Littlefoot, and had trusted him as their leader since their journey to the valley. They more or less believed him, but sceptically admitted it could be just a dream, and it didn't sound like something to worry about. As for Spike - well, he did what he always did. He nodded, said "Aha" and raised no objections while he munched on a nearby fern.

But Cera, as usual, snorted at the mere suggestion of the existence of something she couldn't see, and at most of Littlefoot's suggestions.

"I see this rock, its real. I can't see your "monster"!" she had said.

Typical of most threehorns, she took the view "life's exactly what you see, nothing is a mystery." She had dismissed Littlefoot's vision as a dream the moment she heard about it, just as she had dismissed the stone of cold fire and the longneck bright circle legend. Littlefoot had not told her of his spiritual experience on the way to the valley – that was too sensitive. He had never told anyone about that. No one had witnessed it but him. And he knew what her reaction would be. She had evidently got it from her father, who had lectured Littlefoot as well, warning him not to spread any more "nonsense about bad dreams" as he called it. Her stepmother, Tria, had been more open-minded, but this had not helped. She received a lecture as well from Topsy. He hoped he would not start a family argument. In the end he decided to forget about it. He did not have any similar dreams after that, and slept soundly that night.

Cera, however, woke up in the early morning, in her own comfortable nest. As usual, her father's snoring woke her up, and once she heard it, it kept her up. He had recently gained a habit in loud snoring, and Cera and Tria had constantly nagged him about that, urging him to sleep with a large tree star over his mouth. In the end he had his way, and the girls had to put up with it.

Cera grumbled and snorted, as usual. Amongst her objects were grumbling that morning was snoring, early awakenings, midges (which had recently infested the valley in the summer) and "stupid Littlefoot dreams". In fact she had been frightened of that dream, and was worried about dreaming it herself, but proud as she was, she would not admit any of that. However, she still viewed it as nonsense, though she had respect for Littlefoot as a friend.

She then noticed a very large bug on a rock near her - evidently a big mosquito. Having been irritated by biting insects, she was enraged to see this close to her.

"These stupid things are everywhere!" She grunted. "Well I'll get rid of this one!"

She charged straight at it, but it quickly flew off. She pursued it away from the nest, charging and missing several times, until finally knocking it from the sky and stomping it into the ground.

"Ha! Swarming biters aren't so tough!"

Then she heard a voice calling for Littlefoot, before calling for her. It wasn't her father, and it certainly wasn't her father, or Littlefoot's grandparents. But she did recognise the voice, and headed in the direction of where it was coming from.

She soon came to the small lake at the edge of the valley walls, splashing across the stream that linked it with the river. Eventually she came to the water's edge.

"All right, who's there?"

A spout of water hit her in the face, and a cheeky laugh sounded out from the water. She looked up, and saw the beaked, aquatic face she had expected to see after getting wet. It was the face she often felt like yelling at, due to the number of pranks its owner pulled, particularly on her.

"Mo!" She spluttered. "Did you come all way back to the great valley just to do that? If you're stranded, you'll have to get yourself out this time."

Mo grinned. He knew that while Cera always acted tough, she was soft inside and was too proud to admit it to other people. She would try to help if he was in trouble, despite the fact she would deny it. But he had come for a serious reason, and needed Cera to believe his words.

"Mo found something weird. Mo has brought something for Cera and friends."

He pushed his find up to the surface, and Cera saw that he was towing something large and solid, something that seemed to float on the water, even though it looked heavy and awkward. On the part that stuck out on the surface, there was a bright light that flashed, like a miniature bright circle. She was amazed.

"What is it?"

"Mo found it in big water. Mo never see anything like it before. Mo think it come from bigger weird thing in deeper water."

"Bigger weird thing?"

Cera looked sceptical about that. So Mo described what he had seen and experienced to her, and he noticed she was now totally unbelieving.

"That's the same thing Littlefoot said he dreamed about. He also dreamed it died and sank, like you just told me. You say you saw it happen. You're not seriously trying to tell me that it's real."

"Mo do not know about Littlefoot's dream. Mo know as little as you. The big thing even weirder than smaller thing."

Cera believed Mo was often a nuisance. But she was devoted to others, and had contributed in helping him back home the last time she met him. She had known him well. He was a prankster, but he wasn't a big liar. And he did have a large piece of hard evidence bobbing on the surface of the water. By her own "see and you know" philosophy, it was real and definitely out of the ordinary, in fact it looked nothing like anything that existed in the world, judging by what it looked like, especially that odd light that flashed on top of it - could that make the "dark monster" real? Mo and Littlefoot seemed to think so. After all, Mo had seen it in reality, rather than in a dream. And something as weird as what he had brought would need to be looked at, by her friends and by the grown-ups. She decided to take his words at face value.

"O.K. Mo. I believe you. You've proved your word. If you help me bring that thing onto the shore, I'll show it to the others."

Mo thanked her greatly, and as Cera pulled the mystery object, he pushed it from underwater, until it was on dry land, where they soon found it to be heavier.

"Do you know the way back?"

"Mo know the way. Mo swim it many times."

The both said goodbye, and Mo swam back through the underground channel to his pod.

Once he was gone, Cera took a good look at the "weird thing". It was mostly painted white, with a grey underside. On the top side there was some odd red markings, which meant absolutely nothing to Cera. But there were three markings that interested her, that were located near the top of the object. The first was a red rectangle, laid out as background. In the top left-hand corner of this background was a very odd golden symbol. It consisted of what looked to Cera as being a star, and below that were two strange objects – one was sharp and curved, and placed across that curve was a stockier object, which looked like a square rock attached to chunky stick. They were combined together in a crude cross. On the far right of this marking there was a background formed by a blue and white rectangle. On the white section at the top of this background was the star symbol and the crossed objects, this time coloured red. In between them there was another red marking, which showed some kind of object which looked like a cross, but whose base branched off into two sharp curves. But none of these markings meant anything to Cera. Most fascinating of all was the light that flashed on the top – even after the long journey by Mo's towing, it still flashed. Cera also heard a quiet beeping sound, and noticed that there was some other object on top that was making that sound, faithful to the end. This was truly a "weird thing".

She wondered what the grown ups would make of it, She grabbed the ring in her mouth, and tried to tow it to her father, but she soon found that the dumb thing was too heavy for her to tow on land. She would have to bring the others to see it.

With that in mind, she ran off to tell the others, and left the newcomer to keep transmitting its futile cries for help.


	4. Chapter 4

**Land Before Time – Voyage through time**

**Chapter Four**

_Planet Earth, over 65 million years B.C._

_Great Valley_

"I'm telling you for the last time" Cera groaned impatiently. "I saw it, it's real."

It was still early in the morning, and the bright circle had only just cleared the sharp ridges of the mountain walls, and was hanging just below Threehorn peak. The smoking mountain continued to belch out its black clouds on the horizon, which were given an orange tinge by the bright circle, which gave the morning sky an unusual yet beautiful coloration. Throughout the valley, its inhabitants were only just beginning to stir. Littlefoot, Cera and the others were the earliest to awake.

Having been amazed by Mo's find in the big water, Cera had raced back to the nesting grounds to wake her friends – she felt they should see it first. If she had told any of the grownups, there would have been a strong chance that she would have been disbelieved. But her friends trusted her. She would show it to them, and then they would tell the grown-ups. Once they did the latter, Cera would have her friends to back up what she had seen.

And as with most other things, Cera's pride played a strong role. _She_ wanted to be first to break the news of the existence of this other-worldly newcomer to everyone else in the valley. _She_ would not be disbelieved or ignored by any grown-up, especially her father, and then allow the grown-ups to find the stranger without knowing of it from _her. _The method that she had chosen to break the news would ensure this.

But she did have some trouble in waking the others up, as it was still several hours before they usually got up. Many were drowsy as a result of this, and due to the currently hot summer climate of the valley. She had to do it quietly, so as not to wake up their parents. She eventually succeeded, but once she had gathered all her friends together and lead them to the small lake where the Mo had brought the object to the valley, they could not believe what she was telling them. They repeatedly asked her if it was true (many of such enquiries were made by Ducky and Petrie) and at that moment, she had answered another such question. Yet Ducky was still baffled by what she was hearing.

"But Cera, that thing you saw is nothing like we have seen, oh no, no, no."

"I can't explain what it is anymore than you can. But I know that I saw it, and Mo brought it here."

Littlefoot was quite amazed (and somewhat amused) that after constantly disputing any inkling of the unknown, including his dream, Cera was now claiming she had seen a totally alien object, and it was now in the valley. He soon gained the nerve to point this out to her.

"I didn't know you believed in that stuff Cera."

She gave her usual "humph!" and picked up the pace. The others kept up.

They soon came closer the pool that was located at the edge of the valley walls, within a clearing in the trees, connected to the river by a little stream that the five friends splashed across happily. The cool water was a relief in the heat wave that was scorching the valley this summer. They burned and sweated heavily, even in the early mornings and late evenings. In addition, the heat had caused an explosion in the numbers of biting insects. The cool water also soothed some of the midge and mosquito bites they had received on their legs, which were a constant irritation.

They followed the stream to the clearing. What they saw made all except Cera drop their jaws in wonder. Cera grinned.

"Now do you believe me?"

There, lying at the edge of the pool was the strange, rounded cylinder that Cera had described. They could see the strange red markings that she had told them about. They saw the eerie flashing light at the top of the object. As they edged closer, they also heard the mysterious _beep, beep, beep, beep, beep _that seemed to sound out from within the solid hulk. As they got closer, Littlefoot noticed that the skin of… whatever it was seemed to be divided into rectangles. At the sides of these rectangles were odd little bumps and knobs, like the armoured back of a club-tail. Yet there was no head, mouth, eyes, tail, nostrils, feet or fins that could determine what kind of animal this was, if any. Just this solid, relatively smooth, strangely marked hulk.

"Wh-What i-is i-it, Cera?" Petrie was stammering. He had no idea what this thing was. Its unfamiliarity gave a sense of unease.

"I don't know. Even Mo couldn't tell me, and he found it."

Littlefoot walked up close, and then put up his front feet on its skin, feeling it with his paws. He then struck it twice with his right foot, which produced an odd sound, like a deep-ringing. The young dinosaurs even thought they could hear a mild talk-back coming from the object when Littlefoot struck it. It didn't even sound like anything they knew, let alone look like. Littlefoot then put his feet down, and hummed as he thought.

Something about this object made him feel unsettled. Not that it was frightening, but the alien nature of what he was seeing seemed to conjure up the image of his dream. Of that massive, dark object being dragged through strong current…seeing its shell crack and flood…hearing cries of help, like they were from multiple creatures, pleading for their soon to be ended lives…and then silence. It was like hearing the sound of a hive of buzzing-stingers falling into the water, the stingers buzzing in distress before drowning, and turning silent forever.

Somehow, this object was connected with what he had seen, he could feel it. It seemed to be of the same nature, of the same solid, smooth composition. And Cera had said that Mo had told her that he had found the big object, and this was floating on the surface above where it was lying. It all seemed to fit – his dream had been a vision of a real event. He could not believe it. But how was this object directly related? Then he finally spoke.

"Whatever it is, it doesn't sound like a dead creature. It's more like a rock, but it feels differently from a rock. But it's making a noise, and that weird light. Rocks don't do that."

Nobody asked him how he knew it was closer to a rock than an animal, since they all knew that Littlefoot knew as little about this newcomer as they did. Then Littlefoot matched this up with his dream.

"Mo said he found this close to a bigger object. This must have come from it, since they both sound similar. Cera, did he say where he found it?"

"He told me he found it outside the entrance of a big tunnel."

"Then…the big thing must be what I saw in my dream."

"What?"

"The big thing I saw was being dragged through a tunnel, and then crashed outside the entrance. That must have been what Mo saw. My dream was real!"

"Come on Littlefoot, that can't be true. It could have been a coincidence."

"I don't know what I saw Cera. I might have been a coincidence, or something else. But what Mo saw sounds a lot like what I saw."

Cera wasn't about to believe it, and remained silent.

"I believed you when you told me about this Cera. Can't you believe me?"

Cera had already seen something she could not explain. In the awe of this sense of an alien intruder into the world of the dinosaurs, her usual stubbornness gave way.

"O.K., what you saw does sound like what Mo told me about. But it doesn't tell us any more about this thing, or that bigger thing out there."

Then Petrie spoke.

"What we do now?"

Littlefoot was lost in thought. Who else in the valley would have any knowledge about an object which had evidently come from the big water outside the valley, and which nobody seemed to be able identify, let alone know anything about it? The thing was an enigma; there was nothing even remotely familiar about what they were seeing and hearing about from Mo.

But Littlefoot had seen strange things before. And in recent years, he had got to know someone who had unbelievably immense knowledge about the world, and had more brains than any other dinosaur he knew, a guy with a knack for explaining the unknown. He was the best Littlefoot could think of. He had educated the children of the Great valley for years, and was perhaps the one of the greatest intellectuals that the world of the dinosaurs had produced. He had been discredited for a while by the other grown-ups following the time of the blizzards, but if anyone could explain the newcomer, this particular dinosaur could. Then he spoke again.

"Perhaps we should show this to Mr. Thicknose before we show it to the other grown-ups."

This idea was met with universal agreement by the others. However, they insisted on guarding the strange object, and that one of them should go. Petrie volunteered.

"I go find him. I can fly fastest."

"Not that any of us can fly" grunted Cera.

"I be back soon. Mr. Thicknose be with me."

Petrie spread his wings, and flew off towards Mr. Thicknose's sleeping spot.

_Thicknose herd area, Great Valley_

_Early Morning_

The Bright circle rose higher in the sky. While it was still at its morning level, it was high enough for its rays to shine down upon the valley. These strong rays of light woke many of the inhabitants, including the owner of one particularly thick nasal cavity. As the light shone in his eyes, Mr. Thicknose pulled himself up from his sleeping position with a yawn, drowsy in the sweltering hot summer. It would soon be time for breakfast. Luckily for him, there was a large amount of those crunchy ferns, cycads and horsetails that were close to his part of the valley. He ambled towards it, and began to munch away cheerfully, while the processes of his well-formed brain began their inner workings, in order to produce one of his great intellectual thoughts that he might share with anyone who listened.

That was difficult to do these days, ever since old Thicknose had not foreseen the snow, and had been found out to have gained his knowledge of the unknown from others rather than from his own investigations.

"Oh well," he thought to himself, "every intellectual is inspired by others. And the kids still believe in me. Most of the others have forgotten about the blizzards. I'm still the certified Know-it-all in this valley."

As Mr. Thicknose let that thought flow through his mind, he heard someone calling his name from what sounded like above. He then recognised the voice.

"Petrie, is that you?"

"Yes, it me."

Petrie flew down to Mr. Thicknose's eye level, and perched on a tree branch. He then gave a hurried explanation to his teacher.

"Sorry Mr. Thicknose, but we find something weird in the valley."

Mr. Thicknose's eyes glinted with interest.

"Weird, you say?"

"Yeah. A friend from big water brought it to great valley."

"This morning?"

"Yeah. Its hard like a rock, but it makes flashes and weird noises."

"Really! Where is it?"

"By pool near valley walls."

"I must see this."

Mr. Thicknose trusted the kids, and was almost immediately intrigued when he heard something out of the ordinary. Unfortunately this made him very gullible and many dinosaurs made fun of him for this. Still he was eager to see this thing Petrie was telling him about.

"Lead me to it Petrie. I'll follow."

Mr. Thicknose left his feeding area, and followed his ardent pupil to this new mystery.

As soon as they got there, he was fascinated by the strange object, and immediately began to examine it closely, so much that he seemed to forget that the kids were there – he could not believe what he was examining! But then Cera finally spoke, interrupting his work.

"So, what do you think?"

Mr. Thicknose turned towards them, eager to tell them what he had found out, and perhaps several of his own theories.

"Well, you seem to be right that it's not an animal. I can't feel a heartbeat or any sign of life, except for that noise and the flashing light, but I don't think that means it's an animal. It does feel more like a rock, but it doesn't seem to be natural."

"Natural?"

"Things that are given to us by the great circle of life, like Tree stars, Trees, rocks, mountains and the river. This isn't any of those things. It looks artificial."

"Arti…what?"

"Artificial. That means it was made by something else. You know how we build nests for our eggs, and you kids sometimes build piles of rocks around the valley? Well, I think this is something like that, but more complicated."

Cera found that hard to believe. "What do you mean? What could build this?"

"Do you see how the skin is made of those rectangles, with those little knobs? They look like they've been joined together to form a solid body. And those red markings? You know how you sometimes draw lines and crosses in the dirt with your feet? Or use that coloured clay to make marks on the solid rock, or on your skin? I think they're something like that. Markings made by whatever made this. They're probably intended to mean something, but none of us know what they mean. However, I think it's clear that someone or something built this object."

"What about the sounds and the flashing light? Who could build that?"

"I can't tell you how anyone could do that. But I'm certain that this thing was built. And you say it came from the big water?"

Cera explained how Mo had found it, and the bigger object that he had also seen. She also told him how they thought all of this was connected to Littlefoot's dream. Mr. Thicknose became even more fascinated.

"Well, well, well" he murmured. "We seem to be onto something big here. This object probably came from that bigger object. That sounds to me like it was of the same nature, and was also built. If we are to assume that Littlefoot's dream was real, then both objects must have come out of that tunnel. But where they came from exactly, we don't know. Something very odd is going on."

He paused as he began to think. After a long interval, he spoke.

"The other valley dinosaurs must know about this. No, more than that…there must be a council! Littlefoot, Cera, bring your father and grandfather here. They lead the council; they'll know what to do."

Sure enough, the two kids ran off to bring their elders to this new mystery. Within minutes, Topsy Threehorn and Grandpa Longneck arrived on the scene. For the moment, the mysterious object was hidden from Topsy's view by Mr Thicknose's bulk, while the much taller longneck could see it. Grandpa was staring in amazement. Topsy, who could not see what was to be stared at, and always the one to have the first say, grunted impatiently.

"So Thicknose, what have you found for us to talk about? Something that would only fascinate you, no doubt."

"Didn't Cera tell you she found it?"

"Well…yes. I just saw that you were here, and expected you to tell me exactly what it its."

Mr. Thicknose sighed. Topsy was always one to bark before thinking, and he was often heavily pressured by the Threehorn to live up to his Know-it-all status. He stepped aside to allow Cera's father to see. Then the Threehorn began to stare as heavily as the Longneck. After a long pause he spoke again.

"What…is it?"

"Cera said a friend of the kids from the big water brought it here…that's where it came from. I believe that it was built by something – like a nest, and…"

Topsy interrupted.

"What do you mean a _nest_? There's no nest that looks anything like that!"

"I didn't say it was a nest, but that it was built the same way a nest or a pile of rocks are built. It's not a natural object. Something built it, but we don't know what. And before you ask Threehorn, I don't know how someone could build something that gives out light and makes noises. But is definitely built."

"You assume."

"No, if you look at the surface, it's made up of multiple sections joined together. I'm pretty sire it's not a rock or a plant, or an animal. Its not moving like an animal."

"What about one of those hard floaters, we've seen them before."

"There aren't any tentacles. And it's not like any normal shell. It's much harder and smoother."

The Grandpa Longneck spoke.

"This friend from the big water – did he know where it came from?"

"He said he saw a much larger object on the bottom of the sea, and that it was of a similar nature. It's possible that it came from that. The larger object was found at the entrance of an underwater tunnel."

"It came out of a tunnel you say?"

"Yes."

"Sounds like Littlefoot's dream."

"Your grandson said so himself. The sea swimmer also affirmed it."

Topsy could not believe any more of this. An odd object that floated, flashed and made sounds and that was built was one thing…Littlefoot's dream was another.

"This is ridiculous! Just because this thing exists doesn't mean that the dream was true! That "friend" of Cera's could be lying – Cera told me once he was a prankster."

"I don't think he was joking this time Dad. He told the truth about the mystery floater."

Then Grandpa spoke again.

"Whether the dream was true or not, something very unusual has entered our world. It doesn't seem to be a threat for now, but every dinosaur in the valley has a right to know what is happening, and to see this thing for themselves."

"What if it causes panic?" Said Topsy.

"We've faced outside unknowns before, and we've lived normally afterwards. We have to bring it to council rock, so everyone can see. We're officially calling a valley council. I'll inform everybody. You and Thicknose are the strongest, so bring it over to the rock. As for the kids…well, since they found it, we'll need them to explain it to us. They're on the council as well."

Mr. Threehorn and Mr. Thicknose both placed their strong heads against the object, and began to roll it towards council rock, with the five young friends following them. The object was heavy and awkward, much more so than any boulder, and Topsy grunted and grumbled regularly as he pushed it. It was especially troublesome for two grown-ups sweating heavily in the heat-wave.

"It might be mysterious and incredible, but is a nuisance to shift!" growled Mr. Threehorn.

_Council rock, Great Valley_

_Late morning_

By the time they reached the rock, the entire herd of valley dinosaurs were gathered there and Grandpa Longneck, wife his wife at his side, was making an introductory speech. It was still firecely hot, and swarming biters still proved an irritation. Nethertheless, the meeting went ahead.

"My friends, you may wonder why I have called you here, so suddenly, almost without warning. As you know, my grandson had some unusual dreams. We all dismissed them as nightmares. But now something has been found that proves that there is something very queer going on…"

He was quickly interrupted.

"What is it?"

"What's going on?"

"Is it dangerous?"

A torrent of mutterings and conferring sprung up among the valley dinosaurs, before a loud three-horned grunt broke the silence.

"Whatever it is, it's heavy!"

The council turned their heads to see Threehorn and Thicknose working side by side (amazingly) to push a strange, solid object into the centre of the gathering. The odd shape, mysterious markings, the strange clanging sound it made as it was rolled along, the flashing light, the eternal _beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, _spread a feeling of wonder and awe over the herd, reducing them to complete silence. Finally Tria spoke at the sight of her husband pushing it.

"Topsy! What on Earth…"

"Cera found it…a friend from the big water brought it here. No one knows what it is."

The object finally reached the centre of the council, and everybody saw it. Everybody remained silent. Grandpa Longneck continued.

"As Mr. Threehorn pointed out, we know that it came from the big water, but we don't know much else. However, Mr. Thicknose has some theories about it, if he would care to share them with us."

No sooner had Grandpa said the word, Mr. Thicknose began to spew out his investigations in every detail…the markings, the composition, the artificiality of the object and its origins. The latter sparked the most sporadic discussion, especially with regards to an allegedly bigger object. Topsy soon broke that discussion.

"I'll say it again, its nonsense! This "mystery floater" might have been built, it might be mysterious, but there no way that what happened in a dream could reflect real life! It's ridiculous! And another thing, how could anything just simply appear out of a tunnel? It can't be true!"

Mr. Thicknose began to lose his patience.

"Do you doubt the unusual nature of this whole thing? Here we have a totally alien object, which we know nothing about. We can't say with certainty that its origins, which two accounts back-up, are impossible. We can't make assumptions."

"And you can't assume that a dream is true, or that Mo was telling the truth!"

Tria entered the discussion, in an attempt to calm things down.

"There's no way we can disprove the story of where it came from, any more than we can prove it. All we know is that there's something here we can't understand. We haven't seen the larger one, if it exists. Personally, I think it does, since the sea swimmer told the truth about the mystery floater. We know that something made it. There's no way he could have made it as a joke. I think the best thing to say is that we can't understand this without more information, and shouldn't try to."

The slight difference between Tria and Topsy was nearly always made clear. But most of the dinosaurs agreed with her. Then Littlefoot stepped forward.

"There is something about this that reminds me of what I saw in my dream. And this isn't like the Stone of Cold fire. It's something stronger than that. I can't explain it either. I just know what I saw, even if it was in my mind. But I guess we can't explain it. If we all see the bigger mystery floater, that'll prove my dream. But we can't, so we're deciding that we can't understand."

His Grandpa lowered his head to his level.

"I know. We can't. There are some things we can't understand. But at least this makes your story more plausible."

He then returned to the council.

"I think we can all agree that we can't delve into this any more. There is simply not enough information. We will have to accept, as with other things, that we cannot understand what we have seen."

Cera then spoke.

"What about those markings on the top? The red rectangle with those golden crossed objects, and the other two marks – could they tell us where it came from?"

The grown-ups looked closely at the strange markings. They were all fascinated, especially, Grandpa.

"They are certainly symbols of some kind. But we can't possibly understand them, so they can't tell us anything. Accept this, young ones – we can do no more to investigate."

Petrie's mother spoke up.

"What shall we do with the mystery floater? It's been through a lot, but it still keeps flashing and making that sound."

Grandpa stopped to think for a moment.

"For now I suggest we leave it alone, there's no way we can investigate further. It doesn't seem to pose any danger, other than keep us up at night with that light and noise."

The others laughed.

"However we might find some use for it. Does anyone have any suggestions?"

The meeting went from a nervous discussion of a mystery to a light-hearted discussion about the possible uses of the mystery floater. There were many weird and wonderful suggestions, some of which drew laughter.

"We could use it as a marker." Suggested Tria. "For reminding us where the meeting place is. It's a good thing to gather round."

Some others suggested that it could be used for meeting procedures – whoever was speaking would put a leg on it as a sign only he could speak without anyone interrupting.

"We know that it floats" said Cera. "Maybe we could use it to float and play on in the waterfall, like a log."

"Maybe we could use it to give us light when it's dark" suggested Ducky's mother. "It does have that flashing light".

"All interesting suggestions" said Topsy. "Maybe we can decide what to do with it at the next meeting. I think we should use it as a marker for now. That would save me having to carry it further."

Grandpa chuckled happily. For once they ended the meeting in agreement.

"Well, I'm pretty sure we'll get more ideas. But I think it would work well as a marker for a few days. We can have another council on its other uses after that. Council adjourned."

The dinosaurs went back off to go about their business of eating, sleeping, talking and caring for their young. The five young friends remained for a while.

"Don't feel bad Littlefoot." Said Ducky. "Dreams are hard to understand. I never understand mine, oh, no, no, no."

"What you dream of?" asked Petrie.

"I never remember, but I think it's usually about spike."

They all laughed. Littlefoot then spoke.

"Well, I feel better. I guess there are some things you can't understand, beyond the mysterious beyond, remember?"

As they are lost in though about their previous encounter with the unknown, he seized the opportunity and tagged Cera.

"You're it!"

The others ran way, laughing. Cera called after them.

"You guys! No fair! Not again!"

And they all ran off to play in the hot summer's day, and for a while, returned to their normal lives.

The buoy remained at council rock, forgotten by all, including its masters and creators, which it constantly called out for, even when it was still stuck in this unknown world. But its cries for help were only in vain _for the moment_…they would soon be heard, and answered.

For now, it would be forgotten about for the next few days.


	5. Chapter 5

**Land Before Time – Voyage through time**

**Chapter Five**

_Barents Sea, Arctic Ocean, 1983 A.D._

_Soviet navy submarine K-128 K.K. Rokossovsky, Alfa-class SSN_

Captain Rankov stood stiffly in the command room of the submarine, directing his command on a steady and regular course that would take him to his destination in the south west. For now, he was making his way into the open artic ocean, where he would change direction and head for Greenland. He wore the expression of a hard-faced commander, calmly giving orders, but inside his head, he was constantly repeating Nevsky's words.

"You were trained by the best, you were trained by the best, you were…"

Rankov relaxed and decided that was a waste of brain space. He was here, he was giving orders, and he was commanding one of the most powerful attack submarines in the Red fleet. He already knew his skills, he didn't need to keep reminding himself. As the boat ploughed through the icy waters, he flashed back to the night when his command received its commission only a few days ago, and when he had met his crew and officers for the first time.

It had been a cold night on the last day of April, at the naval base in Murmansk. The crew and officers were gathered in front of the submarine in its full livery for commission, in full parade uniform, and standing to attention. A brass band was playing triumphant military music as the ceremony went ahead. Admirals Gorshkov and Nevsky had been seated on the great podium, as well as Marshal Ustinov, in order to witness the entry into service of what was now one of the most powerful attack submarines in the navy. They all made their respective speeches, all receiving tremendous applause and cheers from onlookers and from the men. But Nevsky had arranged for Rankov to have the last speech of the ceremony, as a way of meeting his men for the first time. Nevsky himself had given an introduction.

"I am pleased to introduce your most noble commander, who will watch over the _Marshal Konstantin Konstantinovich Rokossovsky _in her glorious future career in the mighty Soviet navy, the man who will see to it that boat and crew perform their noble international duty to the full, and preserve the great cause of socialism, comrade Captain Vasili Sergeyevich Rankov!"

And with that, Admiral Nevsky returned to his sea on the podium, and Captain Rankov took his place at the triple microphone point, and hurriedly prepared his speech notes. His crew glanced upward towards him, to get the first look at their new captain. Rankov could only guess what their thoughts were. Dressed in full parade uniform - ornate greatcoat, white gloves, peaked cap, jackboots and all – he began his speech.

"Every crew should be proud of their boat, and I am proud to be your captain, as you should be proud to serve under me. Your lives depend on me, and my life depends on yours. A crew is one body, and I am the director of that body. Without me, you are nothing. And without you, I am nothing. Together we shall work towards the best, most perfected service, in line with Comrade Admiral Gorshkov's advice to us all: "Better is the enemy of good enough!" I swear that I shall lead us, captain, crew and boat, through every danger and every glory in our international duty, and that we will be come an integral part of the defence of the glorious soviet socialist state! Serving Soviet Union!"

And with that his speech was concluded. The Crew shouted back his last three words.

"SERVING SOVIET UNION!"

No sooner had they done this than the brass band played the last tune of the ceremony – the national anthem of the Soviet Union. As soon as the first chord rang out, everyone stood to full attention and raised the arms in salute, crew and captain. As the tune continued to play gloriously, with trumpets, flutes, bugles, tubas, drums and all, Rankov knew this was an impersonal meeting. He would soon have to meet the crew personally, and start giving orders. Personal ties would be necessary; the boat only had a crew of Twenty seven. At least they had got a taste of his confidence and leadership.

The next morning, the day before they left port, the captain finally boarded his first command – not to sail, but as an introduction to the boat and its crew. And once he learned a few things about the abilities and qualities of the _K.K. Rokossovsky_, he felt proud and confident in commanding in her.

The boat took its name from a handsome and brave Polish officer who became a Marshal of the Soviet Union. He had come from a noble Polish family, renowned for producing some of the greatest cavalry officers, including him. However, he was born to a Polish father and a Russian mother.

General Rokossovsky, a veteran of the Russian civil war in which he became a Red Army commander, had been a victim of Stalin's purges, and was imprisoned and tortured on false charges of treason. But following the German invasion of the USSR, he was rehabilitated and returned to military service. He commanded Soviet forces at Smolensk, Moscow, Stalingrad, Kursk and Germany itself – all of the battles at which Rankov's father and grandfathers had fought. Along with Marshal Georgy Zhukov, Rokossovsky was regarded as a legend in the Red Army and of playing an instrumental part in the Soviet victory over the fascist invader. As a symbol of that fact, he had ridden on a black stallion alongside Zhukov riding a white stallion while inspecting the might of the Red army during the 1945 Moscow victory parade. He had also won respect in Poland, serving as defence minister in that country for a number of years before returning to the USSR, where he died in 1968. He had won the admiration of many Soviet reformers, due to his occasional conflicts with Stalin (Like Zhukov, he was one of the few red army officers who dared to argue with Stalin). It was also widely believed he had expressed revulsion when Stalin had ordered him to wait on the banks of the river Vistula in 1944, and offer no support to the uprising of his countrymen in Warsaw, literally allowing the Germans to wipe out the Polish AK. But he had no choice to obey the order, causing lasting bitterness among the Poles. His arguments with Stalin and Lavrentiy Beria, the head of the NKVD, won him the admiration of Admiral Nevsky, who would often quote Rokossovsky in his lectures against political interference in military matters, especially from the communist party.

Rankov suspected that it was for this reason that the boat had been named after the general – Nevsky had a strong part to play in the naming of Northern Fleet vessels. This one was his new pride and joy. The establishment had probably agreed to the naming over the political situation in the People's Republic of Poland. The name might well have been intended as a propaganda message to the Polish government and people that they were grateful to the service of Polish citizens to the Soviet people, and that they would not abandon Poland for that reason. General Wojciech Jaruzelski would undoubtedly welcome the naming, himself a veteran of the Second World War. Whether the Solidarity trade union would observe this goodwill gesture was another matter.

Whatever the intention behind the naming, Rankov saw it as appropriate to give the name of a groundbreaking commander to a groundbreaking submarine. The boat was a variant of the _Alfa_ class of Soviet attack submarines, which had long been regarded as one of the greatest submarine classes in the world in both the East and the West. It was the fastest and most manoeuvrable boat in the world, capable of reaching a top speed of 45 knots. No western submarine had yet been able to match it. One reason that it moved so fast was due to the _Alfa_'s light titanium construction (which also helped it to dive deeper than other submarines, over 1300 metres down), as well as its powerful engine powered by a state of the art lead cooled nuclear reactor. These reactors are lighter and give a far greater output than water cooled models, and require minimal maintenance, reducing the required crew.

But what reduced the complement even more, and what Rankov considered being the most amazing and beneficial feature of the _Alfa_-class, was that nearly all its operations were automated. The loading of torpedoes, engine and hull maintenance, radiation control, navigation, everything else except course changes and combat was performed solely by a complex automated system. All operations requiring human decision and action were performed solely in the control room – no other compartment of the boat required the presence of the crew for operations. This and its incredible speed made the _Alfa _much more like a jet aircraft than a submarine, or any other ocean vessel. The travelling shift in the control room required only six officers, the combat shift eight. This meant that not only was the submarine much smaller than any other SSNs, but that the minimum crew was as low as 14. However, due to the need to train personnel to operate this highly advanced submarine class, the crew was normally thirty-one – twenty seven officers and four under officers. But for this mission the crew was reduced to twenty six officers including the captain, and an additional petty officer who was the cook, in order to make room for the Naval Spetznaz team that would recover the warhead aboard the _TK-95_.

The _Alfa_ did have weaknesses, however. The over-reliance on electronics meant that the Russian-made systems were very prone to failure, and required tedious maintenance, another reason for increasing the crew. While the Alfa could move at very high speeds, this created a high noise level, reducing its speed when faced with Western hydrophones. The liquid metal cooled reactor had been prone to failure in some cases, with the molten lead solidifying in the coolant tubes, often leaving the boats stranded in the middle of the ocean, due to the reactor's isolation from crew interference. In addition, the Alfa was primarily designed for surface warfare, and was poorly armed in confronting enemy submarines.

These problems lead to the development of the _Rokossovsky _variant, the _K-128 _being a working prototype. To solve the problem of the noise level, the open propeller of the older versions was replaced by a western-style pump-jet, a turbine concealed within an engine cowling, like a turbofan on an aircraft. This made it quieter and maintained the phenomenal speed. The _Rokossovsky_ was the first Russian submarine to be fitted with such a system. The submarine's role was also expanded from anti-surface warfare, and was fitted with guided anti-submarine torpedoes as well as anti-surface ones. And to solve the problem of faulty electronics, assistance had been sought from the Soviet Union's Warsaw pact allies. The Soviet electronics were replaced with an advanced electronic system imported from the Czechoslovak Socialist Republic, that country being highly rated for electronic goods (though very few of it reached its people). The Russian outside video cameras were replaced by a modernized monitoring system of the brand Praktica, manufactured and designed in the German Democratic Republic. East German Praktica lenses and cameras were also used in the periscopes, providing higher visual quality from these lenses that were exported worldwide (though East German industry had few other high-quality products to export). Finally, the original lead-cooled reactor had been replaced by a more advanced gas-cooled fast reactor, reducing the risk of failure, and providing even greater power and efficiency. Rankov realised how lucky he was to be commanding this super _Alfa_, which no other boat could match.

For this mission, two underwater motor chariots would be carried, for the use of the Spetznaz team in their mission to investigate the wreck of the _TK-95_. To accommodate them onboard the boat, a detachable docking blister had been attached to the port and starboard sides. Both blisters contained one chariot each, and also functioned as a wet and dry room. When the frogmen entered the blister and boarded the chariot, it would be sealed shut. Then the room would be filled with water, and large outside doors would open in the blister, and the divers would leave. When they returned, the doors would close, and the water would be drained, and the compartment re-pressurized.

In addition to a good boat, he had a good crew. His number one executive officer was 2nd class Captain Valentin Anatolyevich Volkov, a quiet and stern by-the-book Cossack officer who followed and gave orders competently and had a strong sense of duty. Rankov suspected that he was an ideologically committed communist, unusual for the Cossacks, who tended to be suspicious of Communist control. That was all very well, as long as he didn't let politics interfere with his duty. There were also rumours among the crew that he had been involved with the KGB at some point, but he repeatedly assured everyone that he had long since terminated his service. However, his image of a "ramrod man" was fixed in the minds of the crew.

There other two major officers Rankov found to be much more human, and more likeable. The first was the number two Executive officer, 3rd class captain Anatoly Konstantinovich Vivienko, a tall and gangling Belarusian officer from Minsk, with a brilliant sense of humour and sharp-wit. The second was the boat's doctor, 3rd class captain Alexei Alexeievich Alexsandrov, a short and stocky man in his fifties (though not a midget), his hair turning a greyish brown. Rankov suspected he had once worked at a children's surgery, since he was the friendliest doctor he had ever met, with the image of a jolly and smiling dwarf. Not only was he highly skilled in medicine, but he was also quite a highly rated singer, capable of singing bass, tenor and alto. It was after Rankov had heard him singing on their first meeting that he revealed that the entire crew, with the exception of the Captain, First officer Volkov and the political officer, was also a military choir and small orchestra, and were hoping to rival choirs in the Red army. He promised to give Rankov some music when they had the time – they always brought their instruments on long voyages. This was no burden, since the Rokossovsky also had expanded storage space to increase its endurance, and because the orchestra part of the choir only numbered twelve players. Rankov therefore allowed them to bring their instruments.

And of course, there was the political officer. He was just what Rankov had expected. He was a short man – not a short, jolly dwarf like Alexsandrov – but short and thin, with a weasel-like face and fixed expression. He had an irritating little smirk whenever he seemed to have the upper hand. His name was Captain Lieutenant Vladimir Borisovich Mishin. Like most political officers, he constantly tried to act like he was in control, much to the annoyance of the officers, even the obedient Volkov. Captain Rankov made sure that he would put a stop to that. He lost his patience when Mishin had interrupted his order to check the electronics while they were in port, and had unilaterally cancelled his order on the account that it "delayed our mission". Rankov then summoned Mishin to his cabin for a private meeting.

"Your role" Rankov had said sternly "is to maintain the morale of the crew, and to represent the party on a submarine which is classified as Soviet territory. It is not to act as a second captain or executive officer. You maintain your rank to preserve yourself as a figure of respect, but not to interfere with military matters. Politics and the military are two separate worlds."

"I am an officer of this boat comrade Captain. I play a role in its running and in its mission."

"And I am the captain of this boat. All officers follow my orders."

"This boat belongs to the people of the Soviet Union, comrade. And the party represents the people. And I represent the party. And since this mission is from the central committee itself, I should play the main role."

"The party can say what they like. Out there, where we may be out of contact for days, you follow me. You are trained in politics; I am trained in running this boat. That was how we won the Great patriotic war, limited political interference in military affairs. If we do the same, this mission will be successful."

"And the whites were defeated in the civil war because Trotsky and the party maintained control."

"Trotsky was a military man in his own right. You are not. I am. I suggest you respect my skills and expertise. Dismissed!"

As Mishin left his cabin, he became more diplomatic.

"I respect your skills comrade Captain. I have read your record. I will allow you to maintain your role as Captain. We shall see whether your skills prove your words. If they do, I will not have to interfere on behalf of the party."

He closed the door. Rankov grunted angrily at Mishin's attitude.

"Cheeky bastard."

The other crew members were all lieutenants, operating the sonar, weapons and electronic systems. The only exception was the cook, petty officer Leonid Ryuzkov. Many were there as reserves for the officers on duty, which only numbered six to eight, and were given much free time between shifts. Captain Rankov tolerated this – as long as they would keep quiet in a combat situation.

And finally, there was the six-man Spetznaz team, when they _finally _arrived on the boat, one hour before it set sail – several hours late. The crew had been furious that they had been kept waiting. Vivienko joked about this.

"I thought that Special Forces were deadly and _fast_."

That had brought laughs, and reduced the bad mood.

"If they're this slow they're not worth taking at all."

Rankov was furious when they arrived, especially because it tuned out they had decided to bring more equipment than they had first specified, cluttering up the storage space. Their commander, the stern and intimidating Lieutenant Konstantin Serov, who wore his medals with pride (including the Order of the Red banner, Order of Alexander Nevsky, Order of Glory, Order of Lenin, Order of the Red Star, Order of the Patriotic War and the Hero of the Soviet Union medal) apologised, but insisted that the equipment was necessary for deep level dives. Rankov accepted the apology, but told him and his deputy, Warrant officer Yuri Petrolakov, to store their equipment and get to their assigned cabin with one hour, or they would cast off whether they were ready or not. But they got moving double time, and soon everyone was ready.

Captain Rankov and executive officers Valentin Volkov and Anatoly Vivienko stood on the bridge, arms raised in salute, with the red, white and blue Soviet naval ensign fluttering in the wind. They faced the Podium of Northern fleet commanders, including Admiral Vitaly Nevsky.

"Comrade Admiral Vitaly Ustinovich Nevsky, commander of the Northern Fleet, I ask for permission to cast off for our first voyage!"

Nevsky responded from the Podium.

"Carry out your patriotic duty!"

Rankov then barked orders.

"Crew down below, close all hatches!"

The crew, who were stood to attention on the deck, marched down the hatches and did as he ordered. Rankov then manoeuvred out of port.

"Ahead slow."

The powerful submarine left port, a sinister black streamlined mass cruising through the water. As Nevsky watched her leave port, and the brass band played its stirring, patriotic music, he said to his aide-de-camp:

"She ventures towards an unknown disaster, possibly into the unknown itself, and quite possibly to our destruction."

The aide-de-camp took in his words. Everyone in the command knew the circumstances of this mission.

Rankov pulled away from his flashback to where he was, the day after they had left port. The vessel was now submerged, having entered deeper water, and was proceeding at a healthy speed of 28 knots. The navigation computers were plotting a course that would them southwest in the direction of Iceland, through the Denmark strait (so called because Greenland is Danish territory) before rounding Cape farewell and coming to the _TK-95_'s last reported position 100 miles southwest of that point, in the Labrador sea, where the depth was over 3,000 metres down.

He knew he would have to be especially cautious when passing close to Iceland – there was a strong possibility that the NATO base there might be able to detect him. In addition, he had been informed in the briefing by Admiral Gorshkov that American submarines had been spotted heading into the area – he would have to do his best to avoid them. In addition, the Royal Navy operated close to Iceland and Greenland – many a Soviet submarine had been forced to turn away from the Atlantic by a British submarine. He decided that the best course of action was silent running on their journey close to Iceland – once he would reach the Labrador Sea, he would have friendly submarines and aircraft to assist him – and the Canadian navy had a very limited chance of being able to drive such a large force off.

What worried him more in that area was what he would find when he got there. A _Typhoon, _one of the most advanced submarines in the Soviet Navy had disappeared without a trace in that area. Something was evidently not right in the Labrador Sea. He thought of the "Bermuda Triangle" which the Americans often feared. They feared it for a good reason, after in 1945 a flight of torpedo bombers on a normal exercise had also literally vanished into thin air over that area. He also remembered hearing about how the Americans had sent a rescue plane to search for wreckage or survivors, and how that had mysteriously exploded over the Bermuda triangle, with no bodies or wreckage found. Rankov just hoped he and his crew would not suffer the same fate. That is, if the Labrador Sea was another "Bermuda Triangle".

He began to wonder what could have happened to the _TK-95_. Whatever it was, he knew it had been bad enough to prevent her from making a distress call, or even launching the distress buoy. Or if the buoy had been launched, its transmitter had failed. Rankov soon began to doubt that – trawlers often navigated that area, and there would have been some news of them finding the buoy if it had been launched. So how could the boat have sunk without launching its buoy?

The ocean is a mysterious place, he thought. Many vessels have sailed it, many have crossed it, and many have sunk. Many have also disappeared mysteriously, never to return, without a trace. It is as if they have been swallowed up by the ocean, or whatever unknown mysteries lie beneath its surface. Not even the most powerful vessel ever built…

Captain Rankov suddenly remembered that he had not yet read his orders in full detail. He needed to review them in full detail. Then he groaned – he remembered he had to share them with that little weasel Mishin. He sighed, and turned to his executive officer.

"You have the ship, number one. And call Lieutenant Mishin to my cabin."

"Yes sir."

Rankov left the control room, and made his way to his quarters in the accommodation compartment. His cabin was spacious compared to the others, complete with a table and chairs in one compartment, as well as a safe, television, radio, bookcase, little cupboards and drawers and a bed. It was divided into two small compartments, one containing a bedroom, the other the table. The cabin was accessible from the main corridor by means of a sliding door. The Captain stepped into his cabin, and waited for Mishin.

The Political officer soon emerged within a few minutes. Rankov silently ushered him to the table, where both men sat down, facing one another.

"You wanted to speak to me sir?"

"Yes Comrade Mishin. I am permitted to share our orders only with you."

"The orders you will carry out, without my interference?"

Rankov was becoming irritated by his "smart Alec" attitude. But he kept his cool.

"Yes. And neither you are I are permitted to reveal them to any member of the crew. If we do, we face a court martial, you understand?"

"Yes sir. Shall we open them now?"

"Of course..."

The Captain got up and walked over to the safe. He twisted the knob into the right combination, which was confirmed by a loud click. He then opened the door, and took out the folder he had been given at the briefing in Moscow, marked with the red Cyrillic letters "For your eyes only". It should be altered to "For the Captain and Political officer only" thought Rankov. He sat down, and placed the folder on the table, and then opened it.

The orders he found for the recovery operation code-named "Operation Chelyuskin" had the same basic outline as those he had been told about at Moscow. Except that they gave exact figures of the _TK-95_'s last reported position. There was also greater detail as to where she sank – her last transmission reported that she had taken refuge from the stalking U.S. submarine in an undersea trench, close to the entrance of an underwater tunnel. That had been the last report given by Captain Pudovkin before he withdrew his towed wire aerial. There were also details of the submarines and aircraft in the area that would support him if necessary, including the _India_-class rescue and recovery submarine, which he would call in if his divers found any survivors trapped in the wreck. At the moment, she was patrolling further to the south, escorted by a _Kilo_-class diesel attack sub.

There was also a more precise content to the orders. Once he entered the search area, he would confirm his presence by means of launching a small buoy that would send a pre-recorded signal to a long range patrol aircraft that would confirm that they had entered "search area 464". The aircraft, whose call sign was "Foxtrot one" would act as a means of command and control. As soon as it would pick up the message, it would then send him a radio message which he would pick up on his wire aerial. The message would include orders from Northern fleet command. The unusual methods of communication were due to a need for the _Rokossovsky _to remain undetected. The first order they would give him would be to locate the wreck, and search for survivors, or if they felt necessary, order him to go to Phase two of the mission. This would involve recovering a nuclear warhead. He shuddered at this thought. Of all the tasks for his first mission, they gave him this one.

He was particularly incensed to find a section of the orders marked "For the political officer only". The party had done everything they could to keep the full details of this mission away from. What could be so important that it be reserved only for the political officer? Propaganda orders? Or maybe some aspect of this mission they had not told him about?

By now Mishin was asking to see the orders himself. Rankov sighed and handed him the folder.

That now familiar smirk appeared on his face.

"I see some of this is for _my _eyes only, comrade captain. Don't worry, I shall read them in my cabin. Hopefully no undesirable individuals will read them."

Rankov grunted, trying to think of a response.

"You just hope they don't, or I'll be testifying for the prosecution in a court martial."

Mishin continued, unabated.

"We're to make a rendezvous with an aircraft, I see. And a number of submarines are there help us."

"They'll probably be busy keeping the Americans away."

"Of course. Your skills will play a key role."

Rankov hated the look on that little weasel's face when he said the word "skills".

"I believe you and I are familiar with one of the submarines that are assisting in this operation. The _Victor III_ sub that was sent to escort the missing boat that has remained on patrol?"

"I am not aware of its name or captain."

"She's the _K-192 A.I. Marinesko_. She's commanded by a Captain Ivan Yakovlev. I believe you know that name."

Rankov grunted.

"Unfortunately yes."

"What a pity. I believe comrade Yakovlev served alongside you and comrade Nevsky aboard the _K-256_. He once told me he had a special admiration for you and the Admiral."

"Yakovlev has no special admiration for anyone else but Yakovlev!" Rankov snapped.

Bitter as his words sounded, they were an accurate summary of 1st class Captain Ivan Yakovlev. He had served aboard the _K-256_ as number two executive officer while Rankov had served as number one. As his superior, Rankov soon came to know Yakovlev as an arrogant and vicious man. Unlike Nevsky, he did not look for respect from his crew. He looked for fear. He was a harsh commander, and sometimes unnecessarily brutal in the way he pushed his men. Sometimes he just seemed to bully and push them for his own enjoyment. Nevsky had lectured him about this, but Yakovlev lectured back, arguing that fear and efficiency was all that was needed to run a good boat, although he adopted many of Nevsky's tactics and manoeuvres, as did Rankov.

He left the _K-256_ early, to become a commander in his own right, which he did a year before Rankov was promoted, which he had constantly pointed out to him the lest time they met at an officers dinner in Murmansk. He regularly boasted of his disciplinary skills, but Rankov suspected that his father-in-law being high up in the communist party had something to do with his promotion. Rankov had not known what boat he was assigned to until now.

"No surprise" thought Rankov, "that his command is named after a man who torpedoed a German passenger liner during the war, which killed thousands of women and children. A submarine named after a bastard, given to a bastard and commanded by a bastard."

Mishin continued.

"He must be proud to command a ship named after a Hero of the Great Patriotic War. But hopefully for you, you'll not have to work with him if he'll have the Americans to keep him busy. Good day comrade captain."

He picked up for separate file reserved for the political officer, and left the file of orders that Rankov was permitted to see on the table. He then made his way out of the room.

Rankov re-read his orders several times, and then returned to the question of the loss of the _TK-95_. He went through all possible reasons for a submarine disaster. Some form of accident or failure of the reactor was often the case, but if that had happened, the sub would have surfaced, everyone would have seen it, and there would be no need for him to search for it. What about an explosion underwater, perhaps caused by a fire in the torpedo room? But even then he would have still been able to launch the buoy, unless it had been a much larger explosion that killed everyone instantly, and destroyed the boat. But if that had happened, there would have been a massive plume of water on the surface as a result of such an explosion. There would have been no need to search for survivors, or a risk of technology being stolen. There would have been nothing left to find. As Rankov knew, that was apparently not the case.

He looked at the details of the _TK-95_'s last message. She had been taking evasive action in an undersea trench or tunnel from a U.S. attack submarine. He'd seen formations like that before in his career as a submariner. They often extended for miles, but were very narrow with dangerous, unstable rock faces. To try to perform complicated evasive manoeuvres in such a place was risky, and could have easily resulted in a collision with a rock face. That then would have resulted in a submarine avalanche or rockslide, burying the ill-fated SSBN, preventing her from launching her buoy. That seemed more plausible, as it certainly tied in with the American report of the sub breaking up inside the trench, if the KGB agents planted in the U.S. Navy were correct in their information.

He doubted that she had been torpedoed – if the spies had found out what the _Los Angeles_ crew had heard, they would have also found out about such an attack. And given the current level of tensions, where a nuclear war could be just a breath away, sinking a highly advanced Russian submarine wasn't a good idea. Neither side wanted a war that would destroy civilisation itself; Rankov knew that for sure, although he knew some people in the establishment would disagree with him.

But as he thought more, he also began to doubt that Captain Pudovkin had decided to perform a wild manoeuvre in such a dangerous position. He had been a commander for ten years; he was too experienced to have done something like that. He certainly wasn't an impulsive or reckless character, Rankov had met him himself. Yet the final signal said it loud and clear – he had been taking evasive action. However, evasive action could also have involved him stopping the engine, and waiting in the trench for the enemy to pass. Maybe a rockslide had simply occurred naturally, as an act of God, and then buried the sub. It sounded far-fetched, but it was the best explanation he could think of.

Whatever happened, Rankov knew he would find out in a few days, once they reached the area and made contact with the patrol aircraft. But before that, they would have to get past NATO forces in the North Atlantic. And then there would be that insane order about the warhead.

It was time for him to get back to his duties as captain, to ensure they would. He put his orders back in the safe, which he locked with another loud click. He then left his cabin, and made his way back to the control room.


	6. Chapter 6

**Land Before Time – Voyage through time**

**Chapter Six**

_Labrador Sea, North Atlantic, 1983 A.D._

_Soviet Naval Aviation Tupolev-142 "Bear"_

_Call sign "Foxtrot One"_

The massive four-engine patrol aircraft flew at high altitude, well above the clouds. A result of this was the effects of the extreme cold outside the aircraft – the tail guns often froze up, which meant they had to be fired now and then to clear whatever ice had formed. The cold was also felt even inside the aircrafts heated cabin, and the crew even struggled to keep warm in their insulated flying clothes. Warm steam regularly came from their mouths as they breathed and spoke. In addition, the sun shone brightly, meaning that the pilot and co-pilot constantly had to wear protective goggles, reducing their vision. Still, they realised that their duty called for such hardships.

Though they were flying high over the Labrador Sea, the pilot was anxious to avoid straying into or near Canadian airspace. If he did so, then his presence would be tantamount to a provocation, and fighters from their air force would scramble to intercept the huge yet vulnerable Russian aircraft. A common image of the cold war at this time was of similar aircraft being shadowed by western fighters, and it was not an image that this particular pilot wanted to create himself. He knew of the possible political consequences, especially this close to the USA's east cost, since Soviet long-range aircraft were also flying close to the West coast, particularly Alaska. Bearing this in mind, the pilot constantly consulted the navigation instruments, as well as his navigator, to ensure that he was still in international airspace. He was assuming that the Canadians would not see _that_ as a provocation. But he could not be sure.

The worries of a possible confrontation were present in the minds of every crewman, including a young systems operator, who was still waiting for the signal from the _Alfa _submarine that was due to enter search area 464. He had waited for so long that he was beginning to believe hearing the interception alarm was now more likely that receiving the arranged signal, before sending the sub their own signal. At the moment, they were only receiving orders from the high command, some of which were to be relayed to the submarines below. Much more of their time had been spent monitoring those submarines, as well as those of the US Navy.

Then a coded signal was picked up on the communications equipment. It was the signal they had been waiting for.

"Message 256 Alpha received. _Rokossovsky_ has entered the search area. Permission to send confirmation signal."

The Captain responded. They had received full permission from Moscow right from the start.

"Roger, you are authorised to transmit the signal."

"Roger, transmitting now."

The low frequency antenna on the belly of the aircraft bounced the signal down to the ocean below, where are long cable snaked just below the surface like some serpent of the ocean, with only a tiny wake and a few curious seabirds to mark its presence. Within a few minutes, it snaked back below the surface, disappearing from sight.

_Labrador Sea, North Atlantic, 1983 A.D._

_Soviet Navy submarine K-128 K.K. Rokossovsky, Alfa-class SSN_

"Comrade Captain, message 256 Beta received."

The communications officer handed his captain a copy of the signal that had been picked up on the wire aerial. Rankov took it from him, and read it with visible calm.

_OPERATION Chelyuskin_

_Orders May 1__st__, 1983, 0500 hours Moscow time_

_From: Northern fleet naval command, Murmansk_

_To: Captain Vasili Rankov, K-128 K.K. Rokossovsky SSN_

_Proceed into search area 464 and head to TK-95's last reported position. You are to investigate the wreck and search for survivors. You will report your findings and the presence of survivors, if any. Report will be made via Foxtrot one._

Rankov had a good reason to be calm. They had not ordered him to arm a warhead…yet. Nevsky had probably seen to that. If the sub was completely buried, as he suspected, then no one would be able to get to its lethal cargo, and there would be no need for such an order. But then there would still be the matter of 163 men dead. He knew they would have to be prepared to find a lot of dead bodies, and he was not looking forward to that.

Yet he felt more confident now that the mission was progressing. He had managed to avoid detection by NATO forces. They had passed the base at Iceland without incident. The only encounter they had had so far was with a Royal Navy submarine to the south-east of Reykjavik, a Churchill class boat. This type had gained recent fame after being the most recent submarine class to fire a torpedo in anger since the Second World War, sinking the Argentine cruiser _General Belgrano _during the 1982 Falklands conflict. Rankov suspected that it was the same boat that had carried out the attack, the _HMS Conqueror_. He had put his engine into silent running. As the crew of the _Rokossovsky _heard the black monster pass just a few yards away from them, they hoped that if a war did break out, they would not be its next victim.

Fortunately, the British captain did not seem to notice them, and kept his course south-east, towards Scotland, presumably back to base. Rankov suspected that either this proved the effectiveness of the _Alfa_'s new stealth features, or the _Conqueror_'s crew had been keeping a poor watch, since they were heading home. He chose to believe the former – it was dangerous for any submarine crew to be caught unawares in the middle of the Atlantic.

After this incident, the voyage had continued smoothly and uneventfully towards the patch of sea off the coast of Greenland, named in the orders as "search area 464". Here they would head for the missing SSBN's last reported position. Rankov gave orders to the planesman as the new course was plotted into the navigation computer.

"Twelve degrees to starboard. Ahead standard."

As the boat proceeded to its destination, Rankov and Volkov briefed the Spetznaz team in the wardroom.

"We should reach our destination very soon, since we have now been heading towards it for over two hours. Once we get there, we identify any wreckage we see. If the wreck is intact enough for there to be pressurised areas, you are authorised to go EVA and leave the boat to search for survivors. Remember to conserve your oxygen – it will be tight in there. And expect to see some…"

Lieutenant Serov stopped him before he could say the word "bodies".

"We have been trained in deep water diving Captain. We do not need instructions."

Rankov and the other crew members, including some Spetznaz team members, could not help but think that Konstantin Ivanovich Serov bore a striking resemblance to wartime General Vasili Chuikov, who had served under Marshal Zhukov at Stalingrad and Berlin. He was in his fifties, a large and stocky man, casting a powerful appearance. He had a hard, stiff face, with dark hair (greying in some areas) and eyes, which had a constant look of steel, with a deep, harsh, penetrating voice. People could never tell whether he was actually angry, or whether what they saw of him was his normal mood and tone of voice. He was a strict and sometimes harsh commander, and had gained a fearsome reputation after service in Afghanistan, according to hearsay amongst Northern fleet officers. He was not a man who looked like he should be argued with. But Rankov had to make clear that he was Serov's superior.

"I am aware of this. Nevertheless I must emphasise the fragility of the situation, and the importance of this mission. You must be quick in there. I need a quick clarification that there are survivors or not, so I know what message to send. If we take too long, the Americans could detect us. You must be efficient."

"Do not worry Comrade Captain" Warrant officer Petrolakov said reassuringly. "We are trained in efficiency. We will get your clarification."

Although just as businesslike as Serov, the Captain found Yuri Andreievich Petrolakov to be more human, due to his tone and manner of conducting affairs. Another veteran of Afghanistan, he was a good soldier, committed and brave, but Rankov also suspected that he and Serov disagreed on how to do their duty. The Captain valued this.

"Very good. I will stop the engines and give you a stable position once we reach the wreck. I will then grant you permission to go out in the chariots. We should…"

Just then under-Captain Vivienko knocked on the door, and entered on permission from his senior.

"Comrade Captain Rankov, we have reached the destination."

"Excellent Comrade Vivienko. As I said to comrade Serov, the frogmen now have permission to leave…"

"Comrade Captain, there is no wreckage."

"What!"

"We have done a full sonar scan of the trench where she was last reported. There's no echo of any kind of metallic wreckage, not even anything that was buried."

Rankov thought for a few seconds about where the wreck could be.

"Have you searched the full length of the trench?"

"No sir. It simply ends in a tunnel entrance."

"Very well. Take me to the control room. You come with me number one, and you comrade Serov. We may find information crucial to your mission. Bring your men as well."

The control room was a hive of bleeps and humming of electronics and computers. Only six officers were on duty, including Vivienko, Volkov and Captain Rankov. The Spetznaz team created a more crowded atmosphere, but they merely stood in the background. The ears and eyes of all those working were fixed on the data they were picking up on their sonar and external cameras.

As Vivienko had pointed out, there was no wreckage to be seen on the sea bed, or anywhere inside the trench. At least, the part of the trench that was open. They had not yet scanned the inside of the tunnel, whose huge entrance loomed in front of the sub. The entire crew were in awe of the massive structure, which looked to Rankov like some gigantic undersea archway.

"Congratulations men, we've just set a world record. We're the first to discover the world's largest undersea arch. Another great achievement on behalf of the Soviet Union for TASS and the propaganda department to harp on about."

He then turned to Vivienko.

"Number two, you are absolutely certain you have not scanned the interior?"

"Absolutely certain sir. I directed the sonar solely at the seabed below us and the sides of the trench around us, as we were moving along. I have not directed the sonar pulse into the tunnel yet."

"Then do so. Whatever wreckage there is must be in there. There's no other place to look. We'll move into the tunnel, scanning as we go."

Vivienko hesitated as he gazed at the sonar image of the tunnel entrance. It was stupendously huge, and seemed to gape at the tiny, insignificant underwater craft like some great monster of the deep about top engulf its next meal. As he stared at it, a ghastly thought crept into his head – maybe this was what the crew of the missing boat had seen in their last moments before disaster. Could this huge mouth have swallowed them up? Was it the lair of some sea monster, which had gobbled up the _TK-95_ for disturbing its slumber? The idea was irrational, but he would not let it escape from his mind. This formation was not like any other he had seen on previous voyages – it did not seem natural. The more he stared at it, the more he felt like he was staring at the door of Baba Yaga's house in the dark woods of Central Russia, where the witch of the night lay in wait for young men for her dinner…

He tried to shake off those old tales of his grandmother, but they would not escape him. There was something about this tunnel that troubled him. His anxiety was noticed by the Captain. He spoke to him sternly.

"Anatoly Konstantinovich, do you have a problem with my order?"

"There seems to be something very dangerous about this tunnel sir. It doesn't look like any other natural formation. It's much bigger than anything we've seen before. What if Captain Pudovkin was in the same position he was in before the disaster? What if there is something in that tunnel we should stay away from? It does not look like something I would want to scan, let alone enter."

Rankov felt the same feeling in the back of his mind. But he brushed it off, and as a senior officer, knew he had to set an example. He remembered Nevsky's style of dealing with his crew.

"It is more likely that Pudovkin simply crashed his boat into the side of the tunnel will attempting evasive manoeuvres. We will not do the same if we proceed with caution. And if we stay here being frightened, we'll waste time and Pudovkin's crew may be dead by the time we reach them. Is that what you want?"

Vivienko brushed away his fears, and turned to the sonar officer.

"Long range sonar pulse into that tunnel, to give us some idea of our route."

The ping of the sonar resonated through the water, and travelled though the tunnel. The sides of the passage were cragged, littered with fallen rock fragments. The floor was also littered with fallen rocks, which lead Rankov to suspect that there were regular earthquakes inside the tunnel. Might that be the cause of the _TK-95 _disaster? The pulse swept on through the tunnel…and then it vanished. That is to say, no echo came back. Vivienko bended down towards the sonar operator, gazing open-mouthed at the display.

"What the hell happened?"

"I don't know sir. I received the echo from up to 200 metres inside the tunnel – then it just vanished."

Rankov chipped in.

"Vanished? Is that possible?"

"Not according to our manuals. It's almost as if the waves simply fell into the tunnel without bouncing back off any hard surface that would mark the end of the passage. I know it sounds ludicrous sir, but that's what I'm seeing."

Rankov gazed at the screen, along with his two crewmembers. Vivienko was right; there was something very mysterious and foreboding about this tunnel. But that was the only place where one enormous piece of Soviet military hardware and 163 men had disappeared. He had to investigate. Still he felt that Moscow should know of this phenomenon, since it could be dangerous to any passing vessel.

"Deploy the wire aerial. The high command must know about this."

The aerial was deployed, trailing far back into the icy water. The Captain spoke to his communications officer.

"Send the following message. Have found possible location of _TK-95_, a submerged natural tunnel. Evidence of recent submarine earthquakes. Sonar pulse does not bounce back beyond 2 kilometres into the tunnel. Suspect both anomalies could be cause of _TK-95 _disaster. Aim to enter tunnel and investigate further. End message. And give them our position as well, and the position of this tunnel."

The signal was sent up to the surface and into the sky, where "Foxtrot one" would pick it up and send it to Murmansk. Rankov turned back to his current situation.

"Planesman, bring us into that tunnel. Ahead slow, and keep her steady."

The _Rokossovsky_'s pump jet turbine began to move and churn the water slowly, pushing the sub on a gentle course into the gaping mouth of the tunnel. To any scuba diver watching what was happening, it would have looked for all the world like a fish entering the mouth of a great whale. Nevertheless, Rankov kept his boat on course, heading into the unknown. Within a few minutes, he had entered the tunnel.

"Keep pinging as you go. I want a full picture of this place."

The sleek, streamlined metallic hunter continued to work its way through the tunnel. As its sonar scanned the sides, Rankov could see all kinds of rock formations, but no metal wreckage. Soon they began to reach the area where the sonar waves had simply vanished, and everyone started to become nervous. The unknown was what frightened them. Even Serov looked worried.

"Comrade Captain Rankov, I strongly recommend we do not go any further. There seems to be something dangerous about this tunnel, we should not…"

Rankov cut him off a swish of his hand.

"You are under my orders comrade Serov. And the orders I were given were to find the wreck, wherever it is. I'm obeying those orders, so you set an example as an officer and obey mine."

The Submarine passed the point where the sonar waves had vanished. They were now over 2 kilometres inside the tunnel. That was when a lurch was felt throughout the submarine. Not a violent one, but gentle, like a log boat on a flume being cast off.

"What was that?"

Valentin Volkov answered his captain. He was standing over the navigation officer.

"It appears to be a surge in currents. Very anomalous activity."

"What do you mean 'anomalous'?"

"There seem to be currents in front of us moving forward of us, pulling us forward. But there are currents behind us that are going the other way."

"Impossible!"

"The data suggests otherwise sir."

Sure enough, the navigation monitor was correct. But how was this possible?

"It seems that the currents simply appeared when we went beyond the point of the sonar anomaly. That should be impossible."

"Well Valentin Anatolyevich, if the data says what it says, you're wrong. Put us into reverse. I don't fancy risking these currents."

The pump-jet began spinning the other way. But the boat would not go back. It simply hung in the water, like a car permanently stuck in the mud, revving its engine in protest.

"The forward currents are too strong sir! We can't go back!"

Rankov felt butterflies awakening in his stomach. He had navigated his boat into what seemed like a natural trap. What was happening exactly he did not know. He had to think of a course of action. This tunnel must have an exit somewhere, even if it was miles away…

"We'll just have to keep following the tunnel until we find an exit. The currents should make it easier."

He noticed that everyone in the control room had sweat on their faces. He noticed Serov had a scowling look on his face, which said to Rankov 'I told you so, you young fool. Now look what you've got us into!' And then a certain individual, whose presence the captain could ultimately have done without, came onto the bridge.

"I see your skills continue to resonate, comrade Captain."

Rankov turned to see Mishin standing behind him.

"Who gave you permission to come here?"

"It is now my working shift, comrade. It seems I came at the right time. The crew will need a morale booster from their political commissar at this difficult time."

Rankov grunted in acknowledgement. Then Mishin began a speech which could only have been pre-prepared by the party for such a situation.

"Keep faith comrades! Remember we are representing millions of Soviet citizens as part of the defence of the motherland! We shall get out of this alive, if we keep our courage and resilience! Once we emerge triumphant, you will all be heroes of the Soviet Union for surviving this ordeal, and making an amazing discovery on behalf of the Soviet people! Keep faith…"

Rankov and the other officers did their best to shut out Mishin's speech and concentrate on trying to find their way out of the current situation. The sonar officer began to hear unusual sounds far behind their position, closer to the entrance of the tunnel. He concurred with the navigation officer with regards to his findings.

"It's a good thing we're heading forward. The ocean back there doesn't sound like I'd want to be cruising through it."

"What does it sound like?"

"Captain, you won't believe this. But it sounds like Hurricane force waves!"

"A Hurricane at this latitude, so suddenly?" Volkov didn't look convinced. His captain thought otherwise.

"Valentin, we are in the middle of a tunnel which absorbs sonar pulses, and has currents that appear suddenly and go two different directions. What could be impossible now?"

The crew took in his words with apprehension. This would be no ordinary voyage. Behind them, a storm of chaos was breaking lose.

"I think it we should radio back and warn them. Send the following message. Have entered tunnel, but cannot turn back due to abnormal currents. Intend to continue along the tunnel until exit and possible _TK-95_ wreckage found. Warning of storm conditions outside tunnel."

The comms officer attempted to send the signal, but there was no confirmation of it being received by Foxtrot one.

"Captain, it's not getting through!"

"What!"

"The signal is not getting through. We've lost radio contact. I'm not picking up any incoming signals either."

"It must be interference from the cave walls or the storm. Either way, we'll just have to press on."

_Soviet Naval Aviation Tupolev-142 "Bear"_

_Call sign "Foxtrot One"_

The pilot was literally fighting for his life and the lives of his crew as he grappled with the controls. The contrast between his state of flying just a few minutes ago with what it was now was just as sharp as the state of the weather. A few minutes ago it had been calm, normal flying conditions. Now, Hurricane-force winds were tossing the massive plane about the sky, threatening to rip it to pieces. The pilot had not time to think about how this could have happened so suddenly, so unnaturally. His only thoughts were survival. He and his co-pilot desperately tried to bring the aircraft under control.

"Keep her at a high altitude!"

"It's no good sir; these winds are like no other!"

Indeed these winds were more powerful than any Hurricane witnessed so far. The turbulence they created was incredible, even at high altitude. The plane was bucking like a mad bull, the fuselage rattling like a man shaking a cash box. With several tiny ants inside that represented the crew members. Within minutes, the elevators were torn away, and the plane began to lose height.

"I can't hold her sir! We're losing altitude!"

The pilot had only one option now. He clawed at the radio, desperate to send out a signal to anyone on the air – he didn't care now if they were Soviet citizens or not.

"Mayday, Mayday! This is Tupolev Tu-142 Foxtrot one. We are caught in Hurricane force winds and are losing height! We are attempting a crash landing and need immediate assistance! We can't hold on much longer…"

The Bear's glass domed nose dipped down. Even the four powerful Kuznetsov NK-12 contra rotating engines could not keep it airborne. It fell through the now thickened storm clouds, down to the now seething and swelling ocean below. The aircraft hit the water with such force that it simply disintegrated. All seven crew members were killed. The brief distress call had been in vain, and no rescue team would be willing to go out into waves that the Labrador sea had not seen for a long time in know history. The plane was lost in the swell, its structure scattered in pieces that sunk to the bottom or floated lazily on the waves. It was wiped out, along with the Soviet Navy's command and control in this area.

_Soviet Navy submarine K-128 K.K. Rokossovsky, Alfa-class SSN_

Within the confines of the tunnel, the crew of the _Rokossovsky_ could have had no idea what was happening outside – what they had unintentionally triggered. Captain Rankov's main thoughts were focused on getting out of the tunnel, and if possible, finding the wreckage of the _TK-95_, if any. Had he become overconfident, and lead his boat and crew to disaster? He was determined not to be seen as a failiure. Then the sonar operator's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Sir, I have found an echo of our starboard. It appears to be artificial and metallic."

Rankov rushed towards him.

"Is it the _TK-95_?"

"No sir. The wreckage does not fit the profile of a submarine. It appears to be a surface ship."

"What? Turn on the external lights and cameras. I want to see this."

The _Rokossovsky_'s external searchlights switched on, twin beams which scoured the darkness of the tunnel to find an image for the acute East German camera lenses to pick up. It was not long before they found an image, which appeared on the control room screens. The crew stared open mouthed. Even Mishin stopped his "morale-raising" speech and shut up, which was greatly appreciated by Rankov and the rest of the crew.

It showed the shipwreck of a 19th century iron-hulled ship, and its iron hull had long begun to be corroded. It looked to Rankov as having been there for decades, perhaps even a century. Its masts and screw were broken and twisted, the superstructure completely wrecked. It had clearly sunk a long time ago, but how had it got here, 2 kilometres inside an undersea tunnel?

There were many wooden wrecks, mostly sailing ships and what looked to Rankov as being old Whaling ships – but there was even what seemed to be a Viking Longship, its dragon head beautifully preserved, that had clearly been there for almost a millennium, as well as an old man o' war and several galleons. The more the cameras revealed, the more the crew began to see that there was a whole graveyard of shipwrecks from every era. But many of these had clearly been down here for a long time, and had gone down within decades or centuries of each other; the youngest appeared to be the 19th century vessel that had been first detected. Even Volkov, usually stiff to attention, was staring open mouthed.

"How did they all get here?"

It was the sonar operator who answered.

"The only way for that many ships to end up in a tunnel like this would be that they were sucked down here, by a powerful whirlpool or maelstrom." He gazed at the wrecks scattered around the tunnel. "It must have been a whirlpool more powerful than any other previously seen, in order to drag ships that size under."

"But we didn't see a whirlpool when we came in."

"It may be a tidal effect. Perhaps the whirlpool only occurs at a certain time. Judging from the age of these wrecks, maybe every 100 years or so."

Serov scoffed at this theory. "Then why hasn't it been noticed as a normal geological occurrence? Anything that large would be well known by now."

"Maybe it varies in strength between occurrences, just like how tides vary. A really strong whirlpool that would be noticed on the surface and suck down vessels probably only occurs rarely, which explains why many of these ships are so old and separated from each other by decades. Most of the time it probably occurs deep down here, close to the tunnel entrance."

"Nonsense! Such occurrences have never been documented before."

But Rankov began to ponder this concept.

"If that is true, comrade Serov, then we have made another major discovery." He then considered a new theory as to what might have happened to their quarry. "Maybe that was what happened to Pudovkin and his crew. They sought refuge from the American submarine in a part of the trench close to this tunnel. He must have arrived just before the next whirlpool was due to begin, by this tidal effect, and got sucked into the tunnel. The _TK-95_ should be somewhere around here, and we should find it, if we keep going up this tunnel. And keep those sonar scans regular!"

The _Alfa _crept up the tunnel like a slow moving fish or eel would, the sound of its sonar constantly pinging through the water, bouncing off the sides of the tunnel and the wrecks scattered around the scene. All were convinced of the sonar operator's theory, yet Serov still had much to say.

"What were those currents that kept us in this tunnel? How did they cause hurricane force waves outside? That was clearly not a whirlpool."

Rankov thought for a moment.

"Perhaps we passed the point of strong currents where the whirlpools are generated. I'm not sure how, but it seems that when we passed those currents, we created some form of unusual reaction."

A look of ridicule showed on Serov's face. The Captain would not tolerate this.

"I know it sounds ridiculous. But this is a completely unknown phenomenon we are dealing with. I don't know what its, but that does not matter. Something happened to one of our most high-valued boats, and whatever happened, we are going to find it and get to the bottom of this."

He turned to face forwards, overseeing his control room.

"And no mysterious force is going to stand in our way."

With that political officer Mishin resumed his propaganda speech, which was not greatly appreciated by Rankov.

The sonar operator remained in tune to the sounds of the ocean – much of what was intriguing now seemed to be coming from the area at least a kilometre in front of the _Rokossovsky_. To his surprise, they were the same sounds he had heard astern of the boat, about half an hour ago, where they had entered the tunnel; the sounds of a violent storm. The lieutenant took it in, and reported what he heard to his captain.

_Planet Earth, over 65 million years B.C._

_Great Valley_

Littlefoot woke up. It was just like any other morning. The bright circle was just rising, and he could see that it was partially obscured by the valley walls. The great neck and teeth of Saurus rock shone like white marble, with an orange sky in the background. The Clouds were laced with the oranges and reds of daybreak. It was red sky in the morning. Although Littlefoot did not know the warning rhyme that would be written millions of years later, he knew that a red sky would mean storms. Bad news for Petrie and the Flyers, he thought. They'll be grounded all evening.

At the moment, however, there was no sign of any storm. Littlefoot got up to find his grandparents awake. It was several weeks since the finding of the mysterious floater, and it had been left on council rock for several weeks, still beeping and flashing as ever. Yet it interested very few now, since there was little more that could be found out about it. Only the children were still intrigued. So Littlefoot and his grandparents greeted each other as they normally would any other morning – in a pleasant mood.

"Good morning Littlefoot."

"Good morning Grandma, good morning Grandpa."

"Did you sleep well last night?"

"Yes, very well."

"Good. The tree stars are in the plenty today."

His Grandmother used her long neck to reach up to a tall tree and shake off the tree stars, sending them floating down towards her grandson. Littlefoot ate happily, and within minutes had finished his breakfast.

"Can I go find the others now?"

"Of course. But remember, stay away from anything dangerous."

"I will."

Littlefoot had not gone far when he did encounter something dangerous. It came suddenly, as if someone had simply asked for it and got it instantly. The sky darkened and greyed into storm clouds, and the wind began blowing fiercely, far stronger than Littlefoot had ever seen in his young life. Lightning flashed and thunder roared. Rain poured in torrents, made worse by the strong winds. Trees were torn from their roots and blown over, and debris large and small was carried about in the wind. Littlefoot could feel small pieces of wood and earth being blown in his face. No sooner had the storm started than Littlefoot was running back to his grandparents in terror.

"What's happening?"

Even his Grandpa, always the wise and dependable leader of the Great valley dinosaurs, looked terrified.

"I don't know. Such storms don't come out of nowhere. But we must get to the shelter hill immediately!"

From the moment that dinosaurs had settled in the great valley they had been safe from sharpteeth and other predators. Yet they had also faced several natural disasters including blizzards, earthquakes, flooding and flying rock strikes. To deal with such problems in the future, the dinosaurs had decided to find a place in the great valley where they could shelter from such disasters until the danger had passed. They soon found a perfect shelter in the form of a large cave under a rocky hill. Entrance was possible via a cave opening at the bottom of the hill. It was protected from flooding, since shelter hill was located in a part of the valley which was above usual flood level. Inside the cave there was an underground lake, providing water, and the dinosaurs had also stored green food in the cave in the event of a long-term stay. The cave entrance could be sealed by means of a large boulder inside the cave, and there were air shafts to the surface to provide ventilation. It was a perfect natural bunker in every complexity.

Littlefoot and his Grandparents now hurried to the shelter hill. Within minutes, they were joined by other longnecks, then other types of dinosaur. Flyers, threehorns, thicknoses, clubtails, spiketails, swimmers and others now hurried to the shelter, determined not to be left out in the hurricane. They soon arrived at the hill, and proceeded to enter it, under calm direction from Grandpa Longneck, and less calm direction from Topsy the Threehorn. Soon everyone was inside and accounted for.

Now the dinosaurs waited for the storm to end, huddling together in fright of the sounds of storm and devastation outside. They were safe from the thousand mile an hour winds, but could still hear them, howling through the walls, stalactites and stalagmites of the cave. Some were silent, others were whispering nervously. Nobody dared to raise their voices in the tense atmosphere. Ducky, Petrie, Spike, Cera and Littlefoot soon found each other, and joined those who were whispering. As usual, Cera had much to say.

"What a weird storm. How can storms just appear?"

Littlefoot did not have an answer.

"I don't know. One minute it was a normal morning, the next it was like this. The sky was red, so there should have been a storm, but I didn't expect it to be like this."

"Those winds dangerous for flying" Petrie stammered. "I almost have wings torn and me crash into tree."

"What if it had something to do with mystery floater?" Ducky suggested. They fell silent. Even Cera did not ridicule this, given the mystery surrounding the floater. But she still asked questions.

"It might not have been the floater. It may have something to do with the bigger thing, or maybe that tunnel Mo was talking about. He said it brought the big thing here with strong currents."

Littlefoot's mind began to open.

"Do you think it could have brought a storm?"

"I do not know" Ducky said, fearful of what was happening. "Things have been weird and dangerous recently, they have, they have."

The five friends fell silent once more. Something had happened in their world. And from what they had seen so far, it was mysterious – and possibly malevolent.

Far outside the Great Valley, something truly malevolent was happening near the coast. The hurricane was blowing at full force here, and it was causing something even more menacing – a tsunami, which was heading towards the coast at full force. The heavy rains were also raising the sea levels, and now the huge wall of water was massing in force. Dinosaurs on the coast, sharpteeth and flat teeth alike shrieked and ran in terror, while flyers soared off to the high ground as fast as they could. But creatures on the ground stood no chance. The huge tidal wave broke the shore, a huge blue monster with a white crest of foam. It surged beyond the shoreline into the inland, swamping animals, plants, rocks and anything in its way. Indeed much had the misfortune of being in its path including the Great valley.

Further offshore, below the tumultuous waves, a spectacular occurrence was talking place in the context of this much larger spectacular display of nature's destructive power.

Below the surface, in an undersea region of massive geological activity, the currents which were powering the massive storm above were surging from a massive tunnel entrance, the currents coming from far within the tunnel. The currents boiled and swelled from the entrance to the tunnel was like the mouth of some undersea dragon. The power of the currents was immense, smashing rocks, stirring the seabed and the massive wreck which creaked and groaned close to the archway.

It was being lifted by the currents. The massive structure creaked as it began to rise, and was slowly carried by the surging water towards the raging surface. For the first time since it had dived under the ocean in its own time, and had been permanently sunk in this era, the _TK-95_ broke the surface. The massive waves of the storm tossed and turned it like a bath toy, yet it remained afloat, almost completely drained of the water that had kept it below. The strong currents carried it on the surface, in the direction of the coast. Any creature witnessing the steel titan cruising in the storm may have been terrified by what to them would have been a completely alien object, and may have reacted to it like a sailor would react to seeing a ghost ship. But the winds were too strong for Flyers to glide above it, and most marine creatures wisely choose to stay below the surface while the massive hurricane was blowing. The mighty _TK-95_ kept its course without interference, although no crew and captain would be directing it on its naturally set voyage.

It soon reached the new coast that had been formed by the Tsunami. Ahead of it lay a circle of mountains and ridges, concealing a great valley, now closer to the ocean than its inhabitants would have liked.


	7. Chapter 7

**Land Before Time – Voyage through time**

**Chapter Seven**

_Planet Earth, over 65 million years B.C._

_Shelter hill, Great Valley_

Littlefoot had a horrible feeling in his mind. It said "The storm is getting closer. It will destroy the valley, and this is where you're going to die!" He tried to shut it out, but he could not. He felt one of those times when one believes certain death is near. If this storm was more powerful than any other, it could flood the valley greater than it was flooded before, and swamp the shelter. He could not shut out the concept.

The storm continued to rage like there was no tomorrow, and the howling of the wind and sounds of destruction, torrential rain and thunder continued to resonate through the walls of the shelter. Many dinosaurs believed that they would never leave the shelter, either due to death or permanent isolation. The storm was more terrible than any they had seen recently, even the whirling winds that had struck the valley during Doc's visit. Even if they did survive, they wondered if there would be a valley for them to come back to once the storm ended. Scenes of terrible devastation and permanent damage flashed through their minds, especially the mind of the Grandpa Longneck. However, he had seen many terrible disasters strike the valley, yet the dinosaurs had always found a way to survive, even when they were once forced to leave after the plague of swarming leaf gobblers. All of the adult dinosaurs had gone through an immense battle for survival just in reaching the valley, and he was confident they could survive again.

Soon, against all expectations, the howling of the wind, the roar of thunder and rain and the flashes of lightning ceased. A deathly silence began. As quickly as it had begun, the storm had ended. To everyone's relief, no-one was harmed. The storm had not penetrated the shelter. Grandpa Longneck breathed a sigh of relief, before making an announcement to the others.

"The storm has passed. We can now leave the shelter."

The dinosaurs were about to move the rock that sealed the entrance, before Topsy interrupted them.

"Hold on a moment! What if it's flooded out there?"

There was a pause. The old Longneck looked upwards at one of the holes in the roof that ventilated the cavern, and then turned to Petrie's mother.

"Can you fly through that hole?"

"I should be able to."

"Good. We need you to scout outside and see if the valley is flooded, by how much, and if there are any other dangers. We need a full picture, so fly over the whole of the valley. We're counting on you."

"By all means! I just need some room for take-off."

The dinosaurs gave her room, and the flyer was soon airborne. As she headed up to the hole, she heard Petrie call "be careful Mama!"

Mrs. Petrie flew up out of the roof, and began to climb. Soon she was cruising steadily above the valley, her membranous wings flapping and soaring with the wind. She pointed her beaked and crested head downwards, until she got a full view of the ground.

As she expected, there was much devastation. Large portions of forest had been smashed to matchwood. Trees were fallen and crushed, and earth churned up. The ground was littered with debris. But to her relief, there was no serious flooding, apart from a slightly burst bank on the river. Yet the river had not swamped the valley, and the lakes remained their normal size. But as she flew higher, she soon corrected herself – there was no flooding _inside_ the valley.

Apart from a strip of land leading to the wastes outside, the Great valley was completely surrounded by water, so much so that it was now a peninsula. The massive Tsunamis and risen sea levels had swamped the flat land outside, but had not been able to flow over the mountains that surrounded it like a fortress. The valley was closer to the sea than it had ever been before. The female flyer was thankful that life in the valley had not been affected, despite the fact that was now surrounded by ocean. As the last flood, the water levels would recede, and things would be back to normal again. And from what she could see, no sharpteeth had broken into the valley after the Mysterious beyond was swamped. The effects of the storm had been destructive, but there was no cause for serious concern. Although large portions of forest had been smashed, enough green food remained and there was still plenty of drinkable water. Still, the flyer decided to fly around the mountain walls, just in case there was a potential point where the new water could breach the walls and flood the valley.

Luckily, she found none, but she found something that made the situation not quite as normal as she thought. On one part of the valley walls was a plateau, connected to the valley floor by a sloping green hillside, lined with trees, like most of the valley. The Plateau itself had a few trees, but not as many due to the soil being not as fertile as it was on the valley floor. On the side of the feature opposite the connecting hillside, there was the new water, which stretched out for thousands of miles until it reached the sea. Here there was nothing but the big blue. The tops of mountains that had been partially submerged formed a kind of large sheltered bay.

It was here, in one corner of where the bay met the plateau, with what looked like it's front wedged between the sides of two mountains, and what looked like it's rear end held up by a ledge, placing it in a position in which it's front end was underwater and it's rear end was sticking out of the water, lay a huge dark mass. The flyer was speechless. The thing seemed solid, with a raised section close to the rear, with red mottling (including what looked to her as being like a red star), strange objects like bent tree trunks that stuck out of the raised section and a stocky, finned tail, with a circular, bladed appendage that meant nothing to the flyer. The object was completely alien to her. But then the red markings ignited a spark in her mind. The same red markings were on the mysterious floater. The same dark monster where that floater had come from, that Littlefoot had seen in his dream, and that Mo had described to Cera, had come to the Great valley, and she was staring at it, right here!

"How did that get here?"

She guessed that the storm had brought it here, but could anything be powerful enough to bring something that large from the bottom of the ocean? The currents would have had to have been fantastically strong. There was no way it could have moved itself, if it was "built" like the smaller floater, as Mr. Thicknose had said. Or maybe that was the case. Maybe it was alive, and was now hungry…

She brushed away that thought. If that was the case, she would see it moving and displaying signs of life. Instead the huge mass was simply resting where it had settled. Still, the others needed to be informed.

Mrs. Petrie made a U-turn, and headed to the shelter hill to inform the other dinosaurs that the valley was safe – and that it had a strange and massive newcomer.

_Soviet Navy submarine K-128 K.K. Rokossovsky, Alfa-class SSN_

The _Rokossovsky_ continued her passage up the tunnel, which to the crew now seemed almost endless. Occasionally it dipped or rose, and delicate manoeuvring was required to prevent a collision with the sides of the passage. She passed ancient shipwrecks similar to those that her crew had previously seen, rotting wooden hulls and masts, which told of previous adventurers who had come this way and never returned. Often they were Viking vessels, which were once sailed by hardy and fierce men of the North, who journeyed stormy seas, reaching as far as Russia and North America. The wrecked vessels probably formed part of those fleets which reached the continent, and Greenland, only to be caught in the mysterious currents that came from this tunnel. Perhaps they had heard of some ancient legend about this place, and came here in search of glory, or had simply been sucked down unawares. Either way, they were nothing more than ancient wrecks now.

Captain Vasili Rankov began to believe that he and his crew would never get out. Every time they came to what seemed like an exit, they found it was merely the tunnel going up or down. It was an endless, dark passage, currently lit only by the sub's twin searchlights. Yet still she continued on her voyage to what looked like nothingness to the crew. The crew themselves remained largely silent, save for Mishin and his ridiculous propaganda speech.

Judging from what his sonar officer had reported was going on at the other end, Rankov didn't fancy going there too quickly, a plus point for such a long passage. He had been told of the sounds of a hurricane, much more powerful than the one at the end of the tunnel they had entered from. A hurricane like that would cause major tidal waves, incredibly powerful currents. In other words, a dangerous place for any sailor. It was still going on at the moment. Then the sonar officer reported some new findings.

"Sir, the storm at the exit appears to have stopped."

"What?"

"It ceased as suddenly as it began."

There was no mistake. The sounds of crashing waves and currents were no longer roaring on the hydrophone. It was another mysterious anomaly, but at the same time a stroke of luck, since the boat would not be faced with a hurricane once she got out of the tunnel. So Rankov now felt comfortable about pressing onward.

Sure enough, after going through several twists and turns, the sonar officer reported that they had reached the end of the tunnel, and that the exit led into open sea. No longer would the _Rokossovsky _have to move slowly and cautiously.

"Bring her into ahead standard. And make those sonar scans stronger, the _TK-95_ wreckage should be here."

Rankov had seen shipwrecks from every era inside the tunnel – but no sign of the _TK-95_. Rankov guessed that the currents it was caught in were strong enough to drag it all the way along the tunnel and out the other side. Going at that speed, the larger sub would have been bound to strike the sides of the tunnel, puncturing it's hull and sinking it. It had to be here.

But to everybody's surprise, it was not. Once again, the sonar detected no steel wreckage. But it did find evidence that something large had sunk here.

"There is a large impression in the sea bed close to the tunnel, which marks an impact point of something large."

"Like a submarine?"

"Quite possibly. It seems a landslide was also started, and some of the rocks and ground here are broken up by the impact. The impact area is extensive; it couldn't have been made by one of the ships we previously saw."

"But there is no wreckage?"

"None comrade Captain. Except for a minor debris field."

"What kind of debris?"

"There is a part of what looks like a submarine tail fin, a hydroplane, some fragments of metal, including part of a periscope and conning tower mast."

It was pointless to search the debris field further; since it was doubtful any survivors or warheads would be here. To find those, he would have to find the main body of the boat, if it remained intact. But if it had settled here, where was it now? It seemed impossible for it to bury itself in the seabed, the ground was to hard. Perhaps it had simply bounced here, and then settled somewhere else. That seemed improbable, but it was the best explanation. Another of Rankov's priorities was to find out where exactly he had emerged.

"Keep moving ahead. And give me a full scan of the area."

Once again, a long range sonar pulse was made, giving a picture of the area around the _Rokossovsky_. When the images came through, they puzzled the lieutenant on sonar watch.

"Captain, the terrain is completely different from the geology of where we came in. The area is much more mountainous, including what looks like undersea volcanoes."

"Unusual for the Arctic."

"Yes sir. There are also several small ocean ridges. There are also brine spires and undersea volcanic vents."

"What is our depth?"

"Less than what it was where we came in. There we were at 1000 metres, now we are at 350 metres."

That was astonishing. Could they have travelled all the way along the tunnel and reached a shallower sea? It seemed impossible. Could they have found a tunnel leading all the way under the Arctic to the North Pacific, where such geology and shallow depth existed? Unlikely, but not impossible. Rankov decided to find out. He turned to the navigation officer.

"Tune into the navigation satellite. We'll soon find out where we are."

The lieutenant attempted to tune to the satellite, but to his surprise, there was no response.

"Sir, there is no signal from the satellite."

"What do you mean no signal? Try again."

"It's no use sir. I keep requesting co-ordinates, but they don't appear. Its almost as if the satellite was not even there."

Rankov turned to his communications officer.

"Very well. Go to periscope depth and use the High frequency transmitter. Send the following message. Have arrived in unknown location. Request co-ordinates and assistance."

The boat's ballast tanks gradually emptied of water and took in air, just enough to bring it to periscope depth. Once that happened, Rankov ordered the communications mast to be raised.

"Send the message."

They waited over half an hour for a response, but there was none. Rankov was becoming nervous. Where the hell were they? Surely there had to be other vessels around. So he turned to his sonar officer.

"Tune into the long-range hydrophones and see if you can hear any propeller sounds. There has to be some surface vessels around."

The lieutenant listened to the hydrophones, but did not hear anything, not even an outboard motor.

"There does not seem to be any…wait!"

"What?"

"I'm picking up an underwater contact, just below us. I can hear it's wake."

"Scan it with the sonar. Is it another submarine?"

"There does not seem to be any propeller sounds."

"Put what you hear on the speaker."

The lieutenant on duty switched on the speakers. The sound was chilling. They heard the rush of water, and the sounds of the water being beaten by something like great paddles. But droning above this at a far louder volume was a low groaning or bellowing sound, like that of an animal. And it was getting louder. 2nd class Captain Volkov gazed down at the sonar officer's workstation, where the screen displayed the acoustic representation of the sound. Despite its disturbing nature, he was immediately asking for an analysis of the noise.

"Could it be a pod of whales?"

"Not according to the sonar. There is only one large contact, rather than several smaller ones. But it is definitely biological."

Finding large and strange biological contacts is not unusual to submariners. American and Soviet nuclear submarines had reported a strange sound known as the "Bloop" (due to it's sound) on their long-range voyages, particularly around South America. It had matched the profile of an animal, but no known animal was large enough to produce such a sound, pointing to a massive sea animal unknown to science. The source of the sound still remained unknown. This however, was much more than just a brief and loud sound, like the Bloop. It was a continuous bellowing, with a sonar contact to prove it. It seemed logical at first to say that it was a whale. Volkov had heard whales before on previous voyages, and they also made bellowing sounds.

"Then it must be a large whale. The contact is nearly 25 metres long according to the sonar."

"I don't think it's a whale. From what I can detect it's not using echolocation."

"Get it on the cameras."

The viewing screen turned to the underside cameras. There was nothing but the blue/black depths of the sea. Then the sonar officer began to panic.

"Contact is coming up fast from below, headed straight for us!"

Before any of his superiors could reply, something appeared on the screen that sent terror into every one of them, and once again silenced Mishin's idiotic speech. The screen at first showed the same dark depths. And then something else appeared.

A head. A huge, fearsome head with a mouth full of sharp teeth, like a crocodile. Behind the head a huge body was visible, and attached to that body were four flippers, two on each side, that beat furiously, driving the immense bulk through the water at an incredible speed. But these were not visible for long, since once the creature got close it opened its mouth, and then only the teeth were visible. The teeth at the camera, and then the screen went into distortion. Simultaneously, a huge jolt was felt throughout the boat. The creature had attacked. For the first time, the captain showed fear. He had not been trained for something like this.

"What the hell was that?!"

"It's moving away sir. It could be getting ready for another attack!"

"Bring us to its depth, and put her into ahead flank!"

If they did not move fast, then the massive jaws of the sea monster that the cameras had witnessed could cause a hull breach. The Alfa's powerful turbines sprung into life, taking it to it's top speed of 45 knots. It soon reached a depth of two hundred metres. Rankov knew he had to take control of the situation, and knew what to do.

"Got to battle stations!"

A red light flicked on, and the crew went to battle stations. Two extra officers entered the control room, going to the combat shift of eight officers. They were ready for action, and needed a strong will and a capable show of leadership, but what they did not need was a new, louder speech from Mishin trying to raise morale for battle.

"Courage comrades, we have courage, resilience, and the motherland on our side, we shall prevail, and…"

Rankov lost his temper at Mishin.

"Shut up!"

He then turned to the sonar officer.

"Do we have that thing's position on our sonar?"

"Yes sir, it is turning back towards us, and is 50 metres below us."

"It won't be able to match our speed. Bring her behind it, number one."

The _Alfa_'s hydroplanes and pump jet turbine went into action, and the sub made a wide battle turn, moving like a fighter plane thanks to its light construction, easy and automated handling and powerful engine. The creature was overwhelmed by the speed of this unknown quarry, and soon lost sight of it. It did not occur to the beast that the swift, black thing that it proposed eating was now right behind it. Rankov gave combat orders briskly.

"Tubes one and two loaded?"

"One and two are loaded."

"Flood both tubes, lock them onto the target."

Soon both torpedo tubes were ready.

"Tubes one and two ready?"

"One and two are ready."

"Fire!"

The two heavy anti-submarine torpedoes left their tubes. For the moment they were wire guided, their co-ordinates and commands, fed to them by the weapon systems officer at his workstation. Under his guidance, they were directed towards the monster, which heard a hissing sound, but had no inkling of what was going on. Then the torpedoes were released from their guiding wires, and the deadly warheads homed in on their target. The giant predator had no chance of escape. Two huge explosions roared and boiled the water, and soon a cloud of blood appeared. The boat's forward cameras showed the huge body sinking towards the depths. The weapons officer grinned with satisfaction.

"Target destroyed. Well done sir."

The crew were about to applaud him, when Rankov silenced them.

"Don't celebrate yet. There may be more in the area. We had better leave quickly, before the smell of blood attracts them."

The swift moving Soviet submarine left the area and the sinking dead mass. Now that the action was over, the crew had the opportunity to try to answer a billion questions in their minds.

"What was that thing?"

"Where are we?"

But of course nobody had an answer. But the captain hoped to find one.

"We will analyse that footage in the wardroom later. That creature did not look like any known animal to me. It was much larger, and it swam like a huge turtle, with those four flippers."

"Could it be an unknown creature?"

"Maybe. But then there are the other mysteries. Why didn't we pick up a signal from our satellite? Why did no one answer our radio message? And why have we not found the wreckage we are looking for?"

It was then that the communications officer chipped in.

"Sir, while there was no response to our message, I did pick up a signal."

"What kind of signal?"

"A distress signal, S.O.S."

"From another radio?"

"No it seems to be an automated signal, like a distress beacon."

"Like a distress buoy?" suggested Volkov.

Rankov smiled. Now they were on to something. The high command had thought the _TK-95_ had not released it's buoy. Judging from this signal however, it evidently had. It had probably been dragged into the tunnel along with the _Typhoon_ boat by the strong currents. Maybe if he could find the distress buoy, it would give him a precise search area for any wreckage; the buoy was not designed to stray far from the scene of the disaster. If he simply homed in on the source of the signal, he could find the buoy, and hopefully find the wreck. He gave a new order.

"Get me the co-ordinates of that signal. That'll be our new destination."

_Somewhere in the Tethys ocean_

_Around 50 miles off flooded coastline_

The pod had only a few hours ago battled with the surging waves and currents as the great storm hammered marine life, smashing coral, churning the waters and leaving death and devastation in its wake. Now the sea was calm as if nothing had happened, save for the ruins of coral reefs and broken rocks. There was a sense of relief that the entire pod had survived by staying deep and in open water. They had thought everything had returned to normal. And then they saw two bright flashes far off in the distance. These were soon followed by dull booms, whose sound, while incredibly loud, travelled slower than the flashes of light, even underwater. The lead female was instantly alert. Her young son was nervous.

"What was that mama?"

"I don't know Mo, but don't worry; it'll be all right, just stay close."

The sounds were brief before passing, and the flashes soon vanished. Mo's mother guessed that it was some sort of volcanic eruption underwater – she had seen them before in her time. But then she heard something strange. Like all fish lizards she had extremely acute hearing, and the rest of the pod heard what she heard as well.

It was an odd pinging sound, with a few small pings and then a single large one following in constant succession. It seemed to be getting louder, and closer. It was like nothing the pod had ever heard before, totally alien to them. It was hard to figure out what could be making such a sound; there was no visible creature nearby. And then their acute eyes saw something emerge from the dark blue waters.

A monster. A black, mouthless, eyeless, headless, faceless mass. It was slowly moving through the water, at some distance below them. The heard the rush of water along its large body as it cruised through the sea. They all stared open mouthed, and then all of them, including Mo, realised that it was similar to the larger entity they had seen dead near the tunnel. Except this one was alive, and it was this that was making the strange noises, which became louder as it got passed closer to the pod. Mo also saw that while it was larger than anything he had seen in the ocean, it was small in comparison with the other mysterious cruiser. It was also of a different shape. The other had been large and bulky; this one was much more streamlined and slim. The raised section was longer, with more rounded edges, placed more to the front of the cruiser than the back, like the other one. Yet it shared the same red mottling on its raised section. Perhaps that told of what pod both cruisers were from. Perhaps it had come to look for the dead one, although Mo saw that it was heading in the opposite direction.

It continued to pass them as they stared at it in complete silence. They had thought that mysterious events had passed after forgetting about the larger object. This newcomer had proved them wrong. As it left them, mo saw those bizarre circular blade-like fins, and understood how they helped it to swim. They were rotating steadily, churning up the water and leaving a visible wake. It soon left them and vanished into the blue shroud, although they continued to hear the strange pinging for several minutes afterwards until it faded away. Mo then saw that it was heading in the direction of where the Great Valley had been.

The _Rokossovsky _had been unaware of this encounter. She continued on her journey towards the source of the _TK-95_'s distress buoy signal, in search of her lost comrade in the Soviet Navy. She soon reached a now submerged shoreline, which sloped like a hill in front of her. Far beyond that stood a ring of mountains, submerged only up to their bases, still faithfully shielding the lush and green world within.


	8. Chapter 8

**Land Before Time – Voyage through time**

**Chapter Eight**

_Murmansk, Russian SFSR, USSR, 1983 A.D._

_Soviet Northern Fleet Headquarters_

It had been a fine May 1st for Admiral Vitaly Ustinovich Nevsky, commander of the Northern fleet. On that day, he had travelled to Moscow for the annual May Day parade as a leading member of the armed forces. He had received an invitation from the Central committee to go, even though he felt that with the operation to search for the _TK-95_ it was not the best time. But his aide-de-camp told him that he had worked hard enough, and needed some fresh air. He and Nevsky's deputies and staff would be able to look after the situation. So he went.

Although he did not have the privilege of watching the parade from Lenin's tomb (which was reserved for Admiral Gorshkov) he did get a good seat in one of the podiums erected around red square. There, with his back facing the Kremlin walls, he watched marching drummers, soldiers and sailors, followed by armoured vehicles, tanks, artillery, rockets and missiles rumbling slowly out of the passages either side of the State Historical museum, along Red square between the Kremlin and the GUM department store before exiting the square via the roads running either side of St. Basil's cathedral, with aircraft passing over the parade above. This was then followed by a procession of floats, brass bands and people's processions celebrating communism. The whole event began with the national anthem of the Soviet Union, and continued with many patriotic tunes played by the main brass band before ending the military parade with the Internationale.

Once the whole event was over, Nevsky was driven in a _ZIL-4104 _limousine, like other VIPs, to Moscow Airport, where an Aeroflot VIP passenger jet was waiting. The car stopped just near to the waiting aircraft, and the admiral made his way up the boarding steps into the cabin, where he took his seat. Although he was inside, he kept his ornate parade Greatcoat on, but took off his peaked cap to cope with the heated cabin.

Soon enough, the jet taxied its way to the runway, powered up its engines, and took off. The flight to Murmansk airport was brief, but the airport itself is situated in a suburb of the main city, Murmashi, which is some distance away from the naval headquarters. But of course there was another _ZIL_ limousine waiting at the airport, and it carried the admiral to his H.Q. But on the way, he was thrust into a tricky work situation almost immediately. That happened when the telephone, located just near his seat in the limo, gave an electronic ring. Nevsky quickly picked it up at the begging of the first ring, as was his habit.

"Hello?"

"I hope you had a pleasant journey home sir, but we have a serious situation."

"Ah, it is you Nikolai. So what do you have for me? Or do you just have some problems getting the coffee ready?"

Counter-admiral Nikolai Georgieveich Medvedev was Nevsky's aide de camp and adjutant. He had often been used to working alongside bullish and aggressive officers, and Nevsky was a complete contrast. The jolly old man was a joy to work for, and he had kept his job with him for ten years now. Nevsky himself valued Medvedev as a faithful, dedicated and self-disciplined individual, and never interviewed anybody else to take his job. Often they would joke together in private, but this time he was serious and not joking, so the Admiral listened.

"It's the command and control aircraft in search area 464, Foxtrot one. We've lost contact in a storm."

"What? A storm?"

"Yes sir. It just appeared out of the blue. A brief mayday from them was picked up, but then we lost contact. Everyone here is as baffled as you and I, skirl. The communications and co-ordination for our subs in the area is completely gone."

"Have you tried substituting it with a communications satellite?"

"We're working on it now. At the moment no satellites have passed sufficiently close over the area."

"Very well. Bring me up to speed as soon as I enter the building Medvedev. Get me to the operations room for an update on the situation. You are to attend with me, as is Vice Admirals Gormov and Sasiliyev. I want everybody ready."

"By the way sir, there is one more thing."

"What would that be?"

"There is a KGB general here, Comrade Viktor Grislev, the deputy head of the Third Chief Directorate. He says his superiors are concerned about the risks to this operation."

Nevsky gritted his teeth. He dared not rant about this on the phone for fear it might be bugged.

"Right, tell him I'll be there soon."

He then slammed down the phone. The Third Chief Directorate of the KGB was responsible for surveillance of the armed forces. This meant trouble.

"Those conniving, nosey bastards!" He hissed.

Undoubtedly the party, who had previously shown a desire to have full control over this mission, was behind this. But why? Did they suspect him as a traitor? What could be treasonous about two tragic accidents at sea, which had cost the navy two valuable pieces of military equipment, a missile submarine and long-range aircraft? Why would he or anyone else want to sabotage a rescue operation?

Perhaps it was a concern that due to such losses, incompetence was going on in the navy, and the KGB had decided to investigate. Or maybe it was because they simply did not trust Nevsky. Both explanations were probably true, but the latter was most likely. The Admiral's long and continuous feuds with the party hierarchy and the secret police would not have helped his position either way. Nevsky despised the KGB and their thuggish minions, not only because the constant and tedious surveillance they insisted on putting the armed forces under and their arrogance in thinking they were higher than actual soldiers.

The roots of Nevsky's dislike of the hierarchy dated back to the Second World War, when he had been a junior lieutenant on a submarine stationed with the Baltic fleet, in which he saw much action against the Kriegsmarine and sank many merchant ships. His captain had been a competent man, yet this did not stop him from being a victim of SMERSH, the military counter intelligence wing of the NKVD, which investigated alleged traitors or spies in the armed forces. Their definition of treason was very broad, and went as far as a man who fled out of a burning tank being accused of "desertion" or "cowardice". SMERSH interrogators could turn any action or genuine explanation from the accused into a conspiracy or planned treachery. Most cases which they investigated were either innocent or condemned for a petty, NKVD-invented crime. Very few were actual traitors. The twisted logic of the SMERSH detachments lead to thousands of good soldiers, sailors and airmen being arrested or even shot on false charges of treason, and heavy penalties placed on ordinary Germans, even communists or anti-Nazis. SMERSH had also been responsible for the Soviet crackdown of the Polish AK anti-Nazi resistance, on the grounds that it was a "fascist" organization. As a result of all this, the name of SMERSH and consequently the NKVD were disliked and dreaded by members of the armed forces, particularly because while they claimed to be the enemies of cowards and traitors, they always seemed to stay well behind the front line units, away from most of the fighting.

But it was what they had done to Captain Grelinko that led to Nevsky being permanently on bad terms with the establishment. They had been patrolling in January 1945 off the East Prussian coast when they had sighted a large passenger ship heading away from the coast, most likely to be evacuating civilians, being a civilian vessel. Close to it was a large German navy cruiser, which from what they could see was providing protection by bombarding Soviet forces on the coast. This seemed like a more valuable and more ethical target. Grelinko had three torpedoes available to him, which was enough to sink a large cruiser or a large passenger liner, they could not sink both. In what Nevsky and the rest of the crew believed to be a logical decision, they had sunk the cruiser. Only the political officer on board had disagreed, and reported Grelinko's actions to the SMERSH detachment at the naval base where they were docked. They placed the captain under arrest on the charge of "openly displaying the crime of bourgeois humanism, of mercy or pity for the enemy", in other words, not sinking the passenger liner that was carrying thousands of wounded and civilians, as other submarine captains such as Alexander Marinesko and Vladimir Konovalov had done.

In a bid for his captain's freedom, and possibly to save his life, Nevsky told the SMERSH officers that they had spared the refugee ship on purely practical grounds. It was more logical to sink a ship that was bombarding Soviet forces, since that would save the lives of friendly troops, and help the assault on East Prussia succeed. A sinking of a civilian passenger liner would serve no tactical purpose. This held sway for a while, and Grelinko was close to being freed, until some rat in the SMERSH top brass suggested that since they had three torpedoes, they could have sunk both ships, even though this was not technically possible. In the end the Captain was removed from his command and sent to a Gulag, where he died five years later. From then on, Nevsky came to fiercely hate not only SMERSH, but also the secret police and the establishment in general, especially Lavrentiy Beria, then head of the NKVD, who had constantly and callously attempted to clamp down on the armed forces, and the Soviet public.

Nevsky's furious outbursts at the SMERSH officers for arresting Grelinko lead him to be investigated and spied upon. Only when Khrushchev began the policy of "De-Stalinization" in the 1950s could Nevsky finally relax and advance his career without any fear of being targeted. But he had been very lucky. After Beria had received a taste of his own medicine by being falsely accused by Khrushchev of being a member of British intelligence, which resulted in his arrest and execution after a show trial (which very few people attempted to rescue him from) a long list of names had been found in his office. It soon emerged that it was a hit list of individuals in the armed forces that Beria wanted executed for treason, and Vitaly Nevsky had been one of those names. The new government pardoned all of those on the list, although it was kept a state secret. Nevsky could not tell anyone about his brush with death, not even his own wife.

This had only increased his dislike of the NKVD, which soon after became the KGB, and of the party upper-class, the _nomenklatura_. He knew well he had long been considered by the KGB as insubordinate, and on their list of possible traitors. But this accusation had nearly always been made ridiculous by his outstanding service to the armed forces. He just hoped that would continue to save him this time.

The black limousine pulled up at the entrance to the Northern fleet headquarters, which was set in an impressive Stalinist building, similar in appearance to the "seven sister" towers in Moscow. Two guards in long trench coats and furry winter hats stood to attention at the entrance. Nevsky stepped out of the car, and strode to the entrance. The sentries clicked their heels and opened the doors for him. He then entered an ornate hallway, in which attendants took his great coat and gloves, and aide-de-camp Medvedev came to greet him. They saluted and marched down the hall and up the stairs.

Soon they reached the ops room, a hive of screens and bleeps, with an electronic map of the North Atlantic on one large wall screen. Uniformed technicians were busy at various workstations. In the middle of all of this was a table, and gathered around this table were three men. The first was Vice Admiral Boris Gormov, the deputy commander of the Northern fleet a dark haired, heavyset man in his fifties. The youngest man at the table was 38-year old ginger haired Mikhail Sasiliyev, the commander of Northern fleet submarine operations. Finally there was a stocky, bulldog faced man that Nevsky had not seen before – he assumed this to be General Grislev. The man nodded with a grin as he came in. Nevsky grunted at this stranger's arrogance. But he brushed it off, and turned to Gormov.

"Report."

"We should be getting a satellite link with the area of operations within a few minutes. But we currently have very little information on the situation. The entire area seems to be virtually blacked out. Interference from the storm meant that we could not contact any of our subs individually. Our meteorologists say they've never seen anything like it."

"Has the storm passed now?"

"Yes sir, but very suddenly, which is highly unusual for normal weather."

"Have you tried contacting any of our boats since then?"

"Impossible without a satellite link sir. And some of them are confronting the Americans, so they are maintaining radio silence anyway."

"You say you lost contact with the command and control aircraft."

"Yes sir."

"How did that happen? How did this storm come about?"

Admiral Gormov spread out a satellite image across the table. It showed several images of the same area of sea off Greenland, each showing the formation of a storm system. But the timescale showed that it had been building up within seconds.

"One of our weather satellites reported abnormal weather patterns in search are 464, which became a hurricane formation within a few seconds. All of our units in the area reported a storm. Then a message came through from Foxtrot one on the long range link with headquarters. A mayday message. We tried to hail them, and then…nothing."

He paused to let this sink in. Such a storm was impossible and terrible. It would have been impossible for any aircraft to escape.

"Had the storm lasted longer than a few minutes, it may have been possible for any scientist to study its origins. We might have also tracked down the missing plane. But both simply disappeared. Its sounds impossible sir, but the data does not lie."

Nevsky could see no helpful information in what he was being told. He turned to Admiral Sasiliyev, the commander of submarine operations.

"Contact with our submarines is lost completely, am I right?"

"Yes sir. We have not been able to receive any update on the situation as a result. But that will soon change once we get the satellite in order."

A series of beeps then echoed around the room.

"That should be it now."

The technicians had finally managed to secure the satellite link, and were pinpointing the locations of each unit in search area 464, one by one, by means of the satellite tracking system aboard each vessel.

"No signal from Foxtrot one sir, she's a total loss."

Nevsky nodded. It was obvious that the plane was gone. But nothing prepared him for what he heard next when he asked the technician another question.

"Have all submarines been located?"

"All but one, sir."

Nevsky's face stiffened.

"Which one?"

"The modified _Alfa_-class SSN, _K.K. Rokossovsky_. She's not appearing on the satellite tracking system."

Nevsky felt a wash of adrenaline seep through his body. Something had gone badly wrong. Rankov had been assigned to search for the _TK-95_, so where was he now? If his sub had gone down, it would seriously compromise the mission, and that would mean two valuable pieces of military technology would be lost, not counting the plane. He tried to remain calm.

"What was her last message?"

One of the technicians handed him a document, which showed a radio message. Nevsky read it closely.

_OPERATION Chelyuskin_

_Radio message May 1__st__, 1983, 0728 hours Moscow time_

_From: K.K. Rokossovsky SSN, Captain 1__st__ class Vasili Rankov_

_Have found possible location of TK-95, a submerged natural tunnel. Evidence of recent submarine earthquakes. Sonar pulse does not bounce back beyond 2 kilometres into the tunnel. Suspect both anomalies could be cause of TK-95 disaster. Aim to enter tunnel and investigate further. Message Ends._

Nevsky handed the paper for his deputies to read. His face was pale. He spoke only after they had all read the message.

"We can safely assume that she entered the tunnel to search for wreckage. Rankov reported that for reasons unknown, the sonar waves did not bounce back out of the tunnel. That may be why we are not receiving a satellite pinpointing signal."

Admiral Sasiliyev then spoke up.

"He said there was evidence of earthquake activity. Could that have been what sank him and the _TK-95_?"

Nevsky entered his questioning phase.

"You believe he sank?"

"It's quite possible, or they could be dealing with a major disaster and we should…"

"What do you have to give weight to your theory?"

"I…" Sasiliyev hesitated. "I have nothing sir. It could also be possible that Rankov has not been able to contact us, due to the same reason why we cannot pinpoint him, and his sonar did not work. He may still be going through the tunnel, and may have found the _TK-95_ already. He may eventually return."

Nevsky nodded. "My point exactly. But there is something unusual about that tunnel, for there to be disruption of sonar, satellite and radio signals, and a storm to rage so suddenly. Such an unpredictable force is not to be meddled with. It is best to wait and see for now."

Then General Grislev stepped in.

"There is a strong potential for a major disaster to have happened, Admiral, and you choose to wait and see?"

"We do not know if there is a disaster General. If Rankov has not returned, then I will consider searching for him. We could be dealing with an unpredictable force. I don't want to risk any more units."

"So you choose the strategy of retreat."

Nevsky was becoming irritated. This arrogant secret policeman had not only stepped onto his territory, but he was spitting on it.

"It is called the strategy of reason, Comrade General. What enemy do you think I am retreating from? We are dealing with a highly unpredictable natural force. We've had communications blocked, and storms whipped up out of nowhere. I will not risk precious lives and equipment while Captain Rankov and his men still have potential to return and regain contact with us, without the need of more being risked!"

The KGB general grinned slyly at Nevsky.

"I hope they will regain contact, for your sake."

Nevsky could not let him say this without a response.

"What do you mean? And what do you want, anyway?"

"You understand, Vitaly Ustinovich, that we have been concerned about your conduct for quite some time. My superiors have constantly tried to persuade our leaders to see sense, but they say that arresting such a competent officer would be a mistake. They would only change their minds if they see a case of incompetence."

"How could you possibly accuse me of incompetence in this case? You saw the storm and the disappearances. It was beyond my control."

"Do you think I believe for a moment that a good sailor would not see a storm coming? You were absent from your post when it happened. You might have averted potential disaster by ordering that plane away from the area. Tonight have ordered Captain Rankov to leave the area, or to await orders."

"There would have been no time for Foxtrot one to get out of harm's way. And there was no clear danger when that message was received, so it would have made no difference. And I was on a state invitation."

"Invitations can be turned down, Comrade Nevsky. And my superiors will decide whether the plane had enough time, and how much potential danger there was before the submarine entered the tunnel, and if it will come back – and how much time you will have. Just to warn you. But we shall see if you can make the best of a bad job. I suggest you take this as a warning from my superiors."

And with that Grislev walked out of the doorway. As he left, Nevsky turned to Medvedev, his aide-de-camp.

"Good fresh air, eh?" he commented with bitter sarcasm. But it was not Medvedev's fault. It was the Central Committee's and that of the bastard who persuaded them to invite him.

Grislev strode down the corridor to the waiting car outside, with that sly smile stuck on his face. He knew that head of the Third Chief directorate Fyodor Glushko would be pleased to learn of what had happened. Glushko had a strong dislike of Nevsky, who had humiliated him by repeatedly eluding his grasp. Nevsky and similar officers in the military were determined to show they were in independent of state control, ever since Soviet Generals and Admirals had exacted revenge on Lavrentiy Beria thirty years ago, with the help of Nikita Khrushchev. Glushko had made it his mission to put a stop to that. In his spite, he had put the Admiral under full surveillance, bugging his home and workplace.

Glushko had been desperate for any proof of incompetence and treason. This could be his best chance. He wanted to make sure that the state had full control over the armed forces, and no stupid arrogant old fool of an admiral would stop him. The KGB had immense power and influence over every branch of the Soviet state, including the Central Committee and Politburo – The current General Secretary, Yuri Andropov, was a former head of the KGB. Glushko and Grislev had good reasons to be confident for revenge. They had scored a hit on Nevsky after "anonymously persuading" (In Grislev's words, when he told his boss of his plan to undermine the Admiral) the party to invite him to the May Day parade, drawing him away from his post at a vital time. Since the central committee did not know that it was Glushko who had persuaded them to invite Nevsky (They had received an anonymous letter from an "admirer" of the Admiral), they would have reason to see incompetence, or even treason, since the invitation was not compulsory. It would also please them to get rid of a thorn in the side of the Party's attempts to exercise control over the military.

And there was another item on Glushko's agenda and Grislev's that they would discuss over lunch today, concerning the personnel aboard the _K.K. Rokossovsky_, her possible whereabouts, and how their mission could be continued.


	9. Chapter 9

**Land Before Time – Voyage through time**

**Chapter Nine**

_Planet Earth, over 65 million years B.C._

_Shelter Hill, Great Valley_

"What's taking her so long?!"

Topsy's booming voice echoed and resonated all around the cave, making it nearly three times as frightening as it would have been outside. But still Grandpa Longneck spoke back to him, as calm as possible – though with Mr. Threehorn, no one could remain calm for long – the old longneck held a record.

"Be patient. It will take her a while to scout the whole valley."

It had been a long time since Mrs. Petrie had flown out of the shelter hill to inspect the damage inflicted on the valley. They were stuck inside the cave for quite some time now, and cabin fever was beginning to set in. Many of the dinosaurs were becoming impatient, some were worried – especially Petrie.

"Me no hope nothing happen to her…"

"Don't worry Petrie" said Littlefoot. "If there were any sharpteeth, they wouldn't be able to reach her while flying."

"You think there sharpteeth? Me no want to go out there at all!"

"Quiet, both of you!" hissed Cera. "Look up there."

The rays of sunlight which poured in from the hole in the roof were briefly disrupted, as the manta-like form of the flyer glided through and landed on the floor of the cave. Mrs. Petrie was clearly exhausted, having flown for a considerable amount of time. The other dinosaurs gathered round her, anxious for what news she might bring.

"The valley doesn't seem to be flooded – there's still plenty of water and green food."

A sigh of relief echoed through the cave. But then they heard more.

"At least, there's no flooding inside the valley. Outside, we're almost completely surrounded by new water."

Grandpa looked down at her seriously. "Like an island?"

"Almost, but there's a strip of land which leads to the mysterious beyond. We don't want to go there."

"Then we'll do what we always have done. Since there's still plenty of food and water, and since the walls have held, we can carry on living as normal in the valley until the waters recede. The only problem is, we won't be able to receive any travelling herds, but that shouldn't affect us too much."

All the dinosaurs nodded in agreement, and sighs of relief were released. The sounds of the sighs were so great, that they almost did not hear Mrs. Petrie speak again of something else.

"While I was circling around, I found something lodged onto one of the mountain walls, near a part where the valley meets the new water."

"What did you find?"

"I don't know. It was huge and black."

Silence fell throughout the cave. Grandpa paused. He had some idea in the back of his mind of what the flyer may have seen, but he couldn't remember. But then Littlefoot spoke before either of the adults could.

"That sounds like the thing in my dream!"

"Nonsense, there's no such thing!" snorted Topsy, but then Tria gestured him to keep quiet. Mrs. Petrie then spoke again.

"I'm not sure, but I think it had something to do with the object with the mystery floater. It had the same red markings on it. It was much larger though, larger than anything I've ever seen."

"I think we should see this" Grandpa murmured. "Where did you say it was?"

"Not far from here, near a plateau and wedged between the mountains where the new water is. We'll have to all go together to see it, there's no way we'll be able to bring it to council rock."

The rock that sealed the entrance was rolled aside, and the crowd of dinosaurs eagerly made their way out in a hurry, out of the dark, claustrophobic atmosphere of the cave. Not only were they were eager to get out not only for the fresh air and to return to their normal routines, but also to see this new wonder that lay just a short walk away. All of the dinosaurs moved together in their combined herd, towards this mysterious black giant. The air was full of their quiet chattering and musing as to what it could be, and just what could be going on. They eventually reached the plateau that Mother Flyer had spotted as being close to the giant mystery floater, and it was here that they arrived.

This chattering became louder when they saw it, as they stared in dismay at this object of mystery. The thing was massive, close to dwarfing some of the peaks that were close to it. It was completely black, save for those enigmatic red markings on a part of it that projected upwards. It had evidently come from the sea, judging by the fact that large amounts of water were still pouring from openings in its massive body. Littlefoot stood speechless as he stared at it. The thing that had haunted his dreams that other night – was now right here in front of him, in the real world. That fact filled him with wonder and awe. None of the dinosaurs had any idea what it was – it did not fit into their natural surroundings. This made some of them afraid as well as curious – and Topsy was one of those who were afraid. Mr. Thicknose and Grandpa Longneck however, were only curious, and wanted to study it further.

"There's a short mountain track that leads to a ledge where the rear of that thing is lodged. Its rather narrow, so maybe one of us could go the ledge to take a closer look, maybe even get on to the thing itself."

As usual, Topsy challenged his decision, or at least began to create an argument.

"Are you crazy Longneck? We don't know anything about this thing. It could be dangerous for all we know."

"Why, do you see any reason to be afraid of it?"

This caused the stubborn pride that was typical of most threehorns to kick in to Topsy's brain.

"Afraid? Of course not! What nonsense! In fact, if everybody else doesn't want to go up that track, I'll do it myself!"

And that was what he did. As he watched the old male Threehorn trudge his way up the mountainside track that lead from the plateau to the ledge where the great tail of the dark monolith lay, Grandpa could not help but smile. Topsy's pride could always be used to try to find a solution to a problem here and there, despite the fact that he was a very difficult character to come to an agreement with. He just hoped that he would be safe on that narrow track. He would much rather have sent one of the smaller or lighter dinosaurs, a swimmer perhaps. But he knew that Mr. Threehorn would not consent to being called back. Tria also watched him, fearful for his safety.

The five young dinosaurs watched him climb up towards the giant that lay in front of them. Ducky then turned to Cera.

"Cera, do you think that thing could be dangerous?"

"How could it?" snorted Cera. "It's just like the smaller mystery floater – more like a rock. It doesn't move or do anything."

"It sure is big though." said Littlefoot.

"Oh yeah, it big" said Petrie, gazing up at it. "But it also look dark, and weird, and…scary!"

Petrie was always one to be easily frightened.

"Well I'm not scared!" snorted Cera. "But I just don't have any idea what it could be."

"I know that I definitely saw that in my dream." Said Littlefoot. "I'm just not sure how or why."

Suddenly, a small part of the track caved in under Topsy's foot, creating a brief landslide. This caused all the dinosaurs to gasp, and for the old longneck to call after him.

"Are you all right up there?"

"Of course I'm all right, longneck! There's always bound to be a few loose rocks here and there. I can do this myself. Never felt better!"

Cera gazed up proudly as her father made his way to the rear of the mysterious giant. He had always told her that Threehorns could do just about anything, and what her father was doing now was living proof of that. But her friends had doubts.

"I just hope he knows what he's doing" Said Littlefoot nervously.

"Of course he does!" retorted Cera proudly, though inside, she was just as worried for her father as everybody else was. Eventually that worry came out in words.

"I think we should probably follow him."

"What?" asked Littlefoot, with a teasingly curious tone of voice. He never expected Cera to say that.

"I said I think we should follow him, just in case something goes wrong. It's a short track, and we have a right to look at the mysterious giant as well. Aren't you happy the thing you saw in your dream turned out to be real?"

"Allright then Cera. We'll follow him."

And so the five friends made their way up the narrow track along the mountainside, unseen by all of the grownups. Since they could move faster than Mr. Threehorn on that narrow track, it wasn't long before they caught up with him. He instantly noticed the pattering of feet and turned his huge horned head round to face them.

"Kids! What are you doing here! It could be dangerous!"

Cera answered solemnly.

"Sorry Daddy. We just wanted to make sure you were O.K."

Her father grunted.

"Very well. Just keep behind me and you'll be all right. We're nearly there, anyway."

The five young dinosaurs and the large adult made their way towards the end of the track, until they found themselves on a large ledge. Directly in front of them was what seemed to be the rear end of this mysterious black giant. It dwarfed all of them, with what appeared to be four black, rectangle shaped fins, and the two bizarre circular appendages, with their grey, bladed fins. Both of these were hidden within some sort of cowling, but it seemed apparent that they somehow drove the thing through the big water, where it was believed to have come from. The dinosaurs stared up in awe at what lay in front of them, humbled by its size. Mr. Threehorn spoke first.

"Is there any way to climb onto it?"

Littlefoot noticed a large pile of rocks close to the thing which was big enough to reach its flat surface.

"There is that way, but I think we'd only be able to manage it. That rock pile might fall apart under a great weight."

Topsy grunted irritably.

"Allright then, you go on ahead. I'll wait here. Tell me what you find up there."

The five friends made their way up the rock pile. It took a lot of scrambling and motivation (especially since Spike had stopped to chew on a root he'd found near the base of the pile), but eventually they made it safely onto the surface of the huge dark mass. They had to hold on tight, due to the fact that it was positioned at such an angle that the surface they were standing on sloped downwards. Despite this, they noticed that sand creepers and other crawling creatures from the big water still clung on to the sloping surface of the giant. No doubt they had been carried along with it by the storm. They noticed immediately the raised section that was close to the rear, looming up at them like a dark tower. On its side were those mysterious red markings, including the star shape. At the top, there were strange trunk-like objects, some of which were bent awkwardly. Beyond the tower lay the rest of dark mass, and then the new water where it was partially submerged. They made their way to the base of the tower, and noticed that it was set on some kind of slope that began from the rear. They stopped close to the tower, seeing no way of getting up it.

"I could fly up there." suggested Petrie. "But then you would no see what up there."

Littlefoot began to ponder.

"There doesn't seem to be much to find out here. There's no way of getting to the top of that tower."

Ducky then came up with a suggestion.

"Maybe there is way of getting inside this big weird thing."

"Oh yeah!" sneered Cera. "Like there's a way in."

Just then they heard a loud tapping sound behind them. They span round, fearful and expecting just about anything. Only to discover that it was spike tapping part of the surface with his foot.

"Spike!" cried Cera. "You scared us half to death!"

"Meh." Spike hung his head in shame over his perceived wrong. Then Ducky stepped in.

"Wait! Spike has founded something, he has, he has."

The part of the surface spike had drummed with his foot was in a dome shape, about twice their size. On top of it, a small wheel shaped object was fixed somehow. Ducky walked up to the dome, and drummed her own fist on it. It gave out a dull, deep talk-back that resonated through the small dome. Then Littlefoot realised what it meant.

"You think it could be hollow?"

"Yep, yep, yep, it makes a sound like when you tap a coconut."

"Then maybe we could lift it up and get inside."

Although they all heaved and pulled to try to lift the possible hatchway open, they were not able to – it seemed to be welded firmly to the surface. And there was no room underneath to put their feet or hands under to lift it. Then Petrie pointed to the wheel on top of the dome.

"Maybe we turn this thing."

He grasped the wheel, and with all his strength, began to turn it in one direction, only to find it would not turn that way. Then he tried turning it the other direction, and to his joy, it began to comply. He began turning it further, until he heard a clank. Seeing what he had done, Cera pushed at the hatch with her horn, flinging it open.

"Good work Petrie!" said Littlefoot ecstatically. "Now we can get in."

"Down there?" said Ducky, fearfully. Littlefoot looked down the hole under the hatch and saw what she meant – there seemed to be nothing down there but darkness. I looked like it went down for a long way. He picked up a stone that was lying on the surface, and dropped it down the hole. To his surprise, the clang of the stone hitting a solid surface was heard quite soon after.

"It's not that deep. And look, we can climb down." He pointed to a row of silver bars that ran along one side of the hole. They looked like foot or hand holds.

"Allright then" said Littlefoot taking a deep breath. "Let's get down there."

All five dinosaurs were nervous, and somewhat frightened. They had seen many sharpteeth before, avoided them, and on some occasions come close to being killed by them, but this was something completely different. They had no idea what they were dealing with here, and were stepping into the unknown, and this made them truly afraid – only entering the land of mists had made them feel anywhere near as much afraid as they were now. They climbed down into the darkness – Littlefoot first, then Cera, then Spike with Ducky clinging to his neck. Petrie flew down, keeping close to them during their descent. He also gave them encouragement as they progressed.

"Keep going – bottom is almost here…"

"Petrie, do you have to do this every time we do something like this?"

"Like what Cera?"

"Like when we cross a ditch or river over some rotten log, or when we climb down a cliff or up a big tree, you always have to hover near us and jabber at us constantly!"

"Oh, me sorry. You like it better dark and quiet?"

Cera realised that she didn't like the idea of climbing down into a silent darkness. She then decided to relent.

"Of course not! Keep talking Petrie."

Eventually they reached the bottom, and soon found that the darkness persisted. The only light came through the opening they had discovered, and the bright circle shone it's rays through the hatchway. They also found that the interior was partially flooded, and their feet trudged through water up to their ankles.

"Me no like the look of this place." Said Petrie, shivering with fear.

Eventually their eyes began to adjust to the dark, and they began to make out what was around them – a sizeable space, almost the size of a fairly large cave, containing many features that were completely alien to them. The air reeked with the stench of death, nauseating the dinosaurs that now breathed it in. The instruments and screens of this room did not register in their minds. Many of what was in the room was so broken that it was beyond any recognition. But what the five dinosaurs noticed more were the dark figures that lay around – one of them just close to them.

They all let out a scream when they saw it, and Cera went into a charge. The others scattered around the room bumping into things. Then Cera crashed into what was in front of her with her horn, causing something strange to fall on her head. Temporarily blinded, she let out a scream, causing what was on her head to jolt upwards, so she could see again. She then saw the figure she had charged, and saw that it was not moving, realising her panic was unfounded.

"It's all right you guys, it's dead. So are all the others."

The other four friends bunched around Cera, took a look at the body in front of them, and saw that she was right. This creature, whether it had been dangerous or not during its now exhausted life, posed no threat to them now. Yet as they got closer to it, the symptoms of nausea got worse, as they breathed in the foul whiff of corruption and rot. What was even worse, they noticed that sand creepers were crawling on this body and others, possibly even feeding off it. They also saw that the dead creature was like nothing they had ever seen.

"It doesn't look like a dinosaur."

"Of course it doesn't Littlefoot. Where are the scales, the tail and the claws?"

"It has tinkling fuzzies all over its head" said Ducky, who had jumped on its head to get a closer look. It was covered in some kind of blue material, and beneath that, some blue and white striped material. Its skin seemed pale and colourless, with a light blue shade here and there, the result of decay after death. Its feet were black and leathery. It was like nothing they had ever seen. The bodies that lay elsewhere were similar, but with slight differences.

Perhaps due to darkness or concentration on examining the body, Littlefoot had not noticed that Cera had something very unusual on her head. That was until Spike, bit into it, thinking the ribbon that was attached to it was food. Cera felt it being dragged off her, and spun round.

"Spike, what are you think.."

"Cera what was that thing you had on your head?"

Littlefoot plucked the strange object of Cera's head with his mouth, holding it up so everyone could see. Cera, who had barely been conscious of what had been on her head after gazing at the dead body, was amazed when she saw it held up in front of her.

"I've no idea. It fell onto my head when I charged the dead thing."

"Maybe the dead thing was wearing this on its head, and you knocked it onto yours."

"Why would anyone want to put a dumb thing like that on their heads?"

Then Cera noticed something on the front of this strange head cover – a symbol that she could not help but think she had seen somewhere before. She searched her memory, and decided she wanted a closer look at the head cover.

"Littlefoot, hold that thing where we came in, where the light from the bright circle is shining through. We will see that thing better there."

"And we'll get some air." Said Ducky. "The smell in this place is the worst I have ever smelled, it is, it is."

They headed back to the shaft which lead up to the hatchway, where the honey-coloured rays of the bright circle shone through, lighting the world of darkness and decay they had entered. Littlefoot held the head cover up to the light, revealing it's form. It was a round object, black with gold lining and glyphs that meant nothing to these creatures from before recorded human time. At the back was some sort of ribbon, also coloured black, each with a golden symbol. All five dinosaurs noticed that something red and golden was flashing on the top. Petrie was the first to look at it clearly and understand.

"That same sign from the mystery floater!"

Sure enough, all five of them saw the symbol attached to the front of what Littlefoot was holding – a shining red star, with a gold outline. Within that was a sharp, curved, claw like object, crossed over with something that looked like a four sided rock attached to a thick stick. Both these objects were of gold, and the red star was wrapped in some kind of golden wreath of tree stars. It was slightly different from the symbols they had seen on the mystery floater, but the overall theme was the same, and the same colours were used – red and gold. But still they had no idea what this enigmatic symbol meant. Though Littlefoot got the impression that it stood for something grand and proud.

"Maybe we should show it to the grownups." Suggested Littlefoot. "Mr. Thicknose might be able to figure it out, and Cera's dad is probably worried about us by now."

"Me glad to be out of here." Moaned Petrie. "This place is stinky – and scary!"

They climbed back up the shaft, with Littlefoot leading the way (though it was difficult to climb and see where he was going, with the head cover partially obscuring his vision). Eventually they made it to the top, and climbed the surface that sloped upwards. This brought them to the tail section that was lodged near the ledge where they had made their ascent onto the mysterious giant. On this ledge, standing apprehensively and perhaps worriedly, was Cera's father. He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard his daughter call. He then became apprehensive again when she called to him that they had found something.

_Soviet Navy submarine K-128 K.K. Rokossovsky, Alfa-class SSN_

Much of the interior of the _Rokossovsky_ was very bland, from the control room to the crew quarters. Much of it had the same solid steel walls and ceilings, all coloured gunmetal grey. Here and there was a red, green or blue light, all meant as some form of indicators. Fire axes, extinguishers and hoses kept in their secure and locked positions, ready to be used in any possible emergency. Pipes and cables ran along the corridors and inside some of the rooms, criss-crossing the roof of the control room. Wherever there was a doorway, it would be either open or sealed shut by a heavy steel door. Much of the space inside a submarine has a low roof, which would make it very difficult for a very tall person to move around in. This confined space, in the strange atmosphere that would sometimes contain more carbon dioxide or more oxygen than normal on the surface meant tough living conditions for most of the crew, who slept in their hard bunks amidst all this. They accepted it, however, and did not make any complaints – for the submarine was designed for combat, not comfort. As military men they understood this, and saw it as their duty to accept some privations, and to be thankful for the reasonably good food and the occasional small luxury, such as a bottle of wine, champagne or even a cake for special occasions. In addition, the captain had realised that his men loved music, and hat permitted them to bring their instruments. Now and then, when the men were off duty, one or two of them would play a guitar or balalaika, and some of the men would dance and sing to the music. During rest periods, when nothing much was happening, it was possible to hear "Kalinka, Kalinka, Kalinka, moya!" echoing down the corridors, as well as over songs. Even while the _Rokossovsky_ was lost and not sure of her position, the men still carried on to keep their spirits up. None of the officers, not even Captain Rankov or the political officer, attempted to stop it, it was one of the few luxuries the men possessed on long voyages.

Even on a submarine like this, there were some rooms that, though still small, had somewhat more comfort and luxury than the majority of other places on board. Such rooms could be expected to be well furbished, with wooden padding on the walls, carpets on the floor and maybe the odd picture, painting or ornament on the wall. The chairs could be expected to be soft and padded, and the room would feel a bit more like the comfortable places that had been left behind on shore. Such rooms included the Captain's and Political officer's quarters, and the officer's mess and the wardroom. It was here that Captain Rankov held a council of war among his officers. The room had a large painting hung on each wall - one had a portrait of Admiral Sergey Gorshkov, the other of Vladimir Illych Lenin and on the far wall, behind where the Captain sat, hung the image of his command's namesake, General Konstantin Rokossovsky. The visages of these three great Soviet leaders stared down upon the lower naval officers seated at the table, like powerful and wrathful Gods gazing down upon their mortal subjects.

This was intended as a brief meeting, as the boat would be reaching shore soon, according to sonar scans, although was currently travelling at ahead slow, cruising at no more than a few knots. It was intended to analyse the footage of the large, fearsome and as yet unknown creature that had attacked the sub shortly after it emerged from the tunnel. It was also intended to try to speculate on the communications problems that had dogged the _Rokossovsky_ since entering the tunnel, and the strange events associated with that.

Rankov and his officers sat in silence as they watched a replay of the footage that one of the sub's external cameras had caught of...whatever it was that had attacked them. The immense jaws, the dagger like teeth, the monstrous head – all of this was now being replayed to them, and sent shivers down some spines. Besides the Captain, the officers present at the meeting included Valentin Volkov, the first executive officer, Anatoly Vivienko, the second executive officer, Dr. Alexei Alexsandrov, Lieutenant Konstantin Serov, the officer in command of the Spetznaz onboard (present with all his medals), his deputy, Yuri Petrolakov and of course, the political officer, Vladimir Mishin. Rankov hoped that the political officer would not make this difficult. The Captain and a few of the other officers had become highly irritated by his arrogance and communist ideologue bravado, especially those awful speeches he gave to try to raise morale. If his job was to promote loyalty to the Soviet Union, he was going the worst way about it.

The footage on the screen eventually ended, and the lights (which had been dimmed so that the image on the screen could be visible) were switched back on. Rankov then turned to his officers. But before he could ask them for their opinions, Dr. Alexsandrov began to speak up.

"Comrade Captain, I have a suggestion."

"Very well doctor, you have permission to speak."

"I do recognise that animal. You see, I had a chance to look at the footage before this meeting, and it instantly reminded of something my grandson kept showing me."

The old doctor could see that some of his younger comrades, especially the political officer, were rolling their eyes – they probably took this to be some form of senile reminiscence. So he pulled a book from his pocket.

"He actually gave it to me before we set off. My daughter-in-law said it was a present from him, since he knew this would be a long voyage."

Rankov instantly saw that it was some kind of children's fact book. It was labelled "Dinosaurs" in Cyrillic. Vivienko was the first to react.

"Are you saying that thing was a dinosaur?"

"Not a dinosaur, exactly. A marine reptile, my grandson always kept reminding me of that."

He turned the pages, and eventually came to the one he wanted. He then passed it round, showing it to the others. Eventually Rankov got a look at it. The page showed a large sea animal, with four flippers, a short tail and a large, crocodile like head. Next to it was marked its name – _liopleurodon_. The text said it was a pliosaur, a giant marine predator alive at the time of the dinosaurs, probably the largest predator ever to have lived. But the text also said that it had been extinct for more than 65 million years. It seemed impossible that the _Rokossovsky _could have encountered a living one, though the animal in the book looked an awful lot like it. Unsurprisingly, the other officers found this very hard to believe. Mishin gave his usual smirk. Alexsandrov was about to speak, but then the political officer interrupted him.

"Comrades, I do not think we should make assumptions based on a drawing in a children's book. It is impossible that such a creature could still be alive."

"Then how would you explain the video footage?" Vivienko shot back swiftly. He was close to the end of his tether with this pompous, swaggering commissar. "The creature that our cameras captured resembles the creature that is illustrated. There is no other known animal alive that looks anything like what we saw."

"If it is a prehistoric animal, how has it been able to remain hidden for millions of years? For all we know, it could be some secret deception, some secret weapon of the Americans to scare us away from recovering the _TK-95_!"

"Honestly Comrade Lieutenant it is ridiculous to consider that like..."

"Enough!" boomed the Captain. The discussion had become very heated and had lead almost nowhere. Rankov took a moment to calm down, and then spoke again.

"Let us take into consideration what we already know for certain. We have passed through a long and ancient tunnel, into a region which we do not know. We have no idea where we are. It is quite possible we have entered a completely unexplored region of the world, possibly subterranean. You asked, Comrade Mishin, where such a large prehistoric animal could stay alive and avoid extinction. Well, I believe we have found the perfect place. A region unspoiled by human activity where ancient species can survive undisturbed."

"You mean like in Conan Doyle's _The Lost World_? Or Burroughs' _Land that Time forgot_?"

The normally grey and straight faced Volkov was now bright with fascination. Rankov gave a smile as he heard two of the few examples of western literature permitted in the USSR mentioned.

"Yes. I believe we have found our own Lost World. It may sound impossible, but the tunnel we have just passed through would be considered by most scientists to be impossible. Not everything is in the science books, it seems."

"Then how would we explain the lack of radio and satellite signals?"

Alexsandrov chipped in once more.

"Comrades, I have my own theory on that as well. The reason why we could not locate our satellites, or tune into radio signals, is because no satellites have been launched and no radios have been built yet."

This drew puzzled looks, one of which (Mishin's) was semi-mocking. The Captain spoke.

"What are you trying to say, comrade doctor?"

"That the tunnel has transported us not only through space, but also through time. That is why we cannot find any ships, radio or satellites. And that is also why we have encountered a creature that should be extinct."

"Ha! What nonsense! Comrade captain, are you even willing to take this seriously?"

The Captain responded in a way that the political officer did not expect – unfavourably. He spoke through gritted teeth, gradually raising his voice.

"First of all Comrade Mishin, I am here to listen all officers' points of view, and come to a conclusion myself, without your assistance. And secondly, I suggest you show greater respect and courtesy towards a superior officer, _lieutenant_! And thirdly, I suggest you clean your act up, or your conduct towards 3rd class captain Dr. Alexsandrov will find a place in my final report!"

And with that Mishin shut up. Then Petrolakov, the second in command of the onboard Spetznaz, spoke up.

"Comrade Officers, surely the concept of time travel is impossible. There is no known natural force capable of transporting people and objects through time itself. And Comrade Captain, I think you will have a very difficult job of trying to explain such a concept in your final report."

"Yes, no _known_ force can do that." quipped Vivienko. "But an _unknown_ force could."

"The impossible suddenly seems possible." smiled the Captain. "Maybe we shall discover more on our voyage. As you know, we have found that the signal of the distress buoy is coming not from a location in the ocean, but from somewhere ashore. We have homed in on the signal, and by my calculations, we should be reaching shore soon. And this is where I end our meeting."

He addressed his officers one by one.

"Comrades Volkov and Vivienko, you are to follow and join me in the control room for our approach. Comrade Alexsandrov, I have no need of you there, but keep the surgery maintained in event of emergency. Comrades Petrolakov and Alexsandrov, you are not needed either. You may remain in your cabin with the rest for your team. And Comrade Mishin..."

He paused.

"I think the men have had their morale raised enough by your efforts. I have no more need of you. You may also return to your quarters."

Both men knew that what Rankov had just said was insincere, but still the political officer saluted on his way out. The Captain and his two executive officers soon arrived in the control room. Rankov immediately issued an order.

"Raise the observation periscope."

He knew that they were approaching the shore, and wanted to get a good view of the land ahead. The metal pillar in the middle of the room rose until the observation periscope appeared. Rankov folded down the handles, and fixed is eyes onto the eyepiece while giving another order.

"Keep her slow and steady. I want to get a stable view."

The high quality East German-made lens poked out above the surface of the water that lay above the _Rokossovsky_'s conning tower. Through it Rankov, picked out the image of the mainland he was approaching. It looked to be largely mountains, and he got the impression that it was partially flooded. But there was a ring of mountains that stood out, and within that ring, he thought he could see a hint of trees and greenery. Rankov adjusted the zoom and focus settings to get a closer look. As the cruised closer, he began to see past the mountain walls. Sure enough, within that ring were hints of Palms, Conifers and monkey puzzles – it looked like a paradise. Then something else in that ring of mountains caught his attention. Something large and black.

It took a few seconds for his brain to register to what he was seeing. He could not believe his eyes. There was no denying it. Sticking out of the mountainside was the gigantic stern and aft ends of a _Typhoon_- class submarine! This had to be the _TK-95_.

"My God..."

Volkov took notice of what his Captain had just said. "Sir?"

"Take a look Valentin. We've found it. We damn well found it."

He made way for his number one to look, before giving his next order.

"Diving officer, planes officer, we have reached our destination. Prepare to surface!"

_The Place of the mysterious giant, Great Valley_

The Grown-ups were all huddled around these five children of theirs. Some of them were nervous about what the young ones had told them they had found. Others, like Mr. Thicknose were fascinated, and others were somewhat that their children had once again had decided to strike out on their own.

"Littlefoot, you could have found yourself in great danger. We don't know anything about this giant." Grandpa Longneck had said this quite seriously upon his grandson's return, but now he was listening just as closely about what he had found.

"You're sure that this sign you found inside the giant is the same as the one found on the floater?"

"Absolutely" said Cera. "I was the first to recognise it instantly." Petrie folded his arms. "Humph!" he grunted quietly. "At least me know truth."

The old longneck bent his head down towards the strange head cover, and looked closely at the enigmatic red and gold symbol. What can it mean, he thought. The claw-like object suggested it might mean something dangerous, but he could not be sure. The red star and gold objects seemed to appear on both these mysterious objects. Did they show where it came from? Then Topsy interrupted his thoughts.

"I reckon we should keep everyone away from it, especially the children. If there are so many dead creatures inside it, there might be something dangerous inside."

"Maybe, but perhaps we should take a closer look before..."

Suddenly one of the other dinosaurs, a club-tail, cried out.

"Look! Right over there, out on the big water!"

All the dinosaurs turned, open-mouthed, to see some strange commotion on the surface, a considerable distance offshore. A patch of the sea began to churn and froth and boil. They had heard many stories of what lay beneath the "big water" but nothing prepared them for what they saw next.

Something black and formless began to rise out of the water. They first saw it as a dark hump, and then this was followed by a larger dark mass to which the hump seemed to be fixed on top of. As the thing emerged, the water churned in its wake, and plumes of vapour sprayed from it. Gradually, they saw the complete object on the surface – a large black mass with a hump close to its forward end. The dinosaurs then realised that it was similar in appearance to the mysterious giant – but to some, especially the five young dinosaurs, it appeared to be somewhat smaller, with a different shape. And unlike the first giant, this one was alive. The rear fins churned the water behind, driving it gracefully through the water. The then looked in horror and disbelief as they saw that it was heading in the direction of the great valley. Though the thing was still in the distance, thanks to the floods, their beloved valley could now be reached from the water. This moving mystery was much more troubling that the static one that was lodged in their mountains. Topsy was first to speak.

"W-What is it? Why's it here? What does it want?!"

The other dinosaurs were beginning to panic and chatter nervously. Grandma longneck called for calm.

"Let's not be afraid. It has not harmed us yet."

"But it's heading straight for us!"

"Maybe it's just looking for the bigger one."

Her husband nodded. "I think we should investigate, and find out what we are dealing with."

He turned once more to Petrie's mother. "I think you know what to do. Fly over to it and find out what you can. If you can talk with whatever might be out there do so."

"Please don't go mama! Me no like the looks of this!" Petrie wailed. His mother comforted him.

"Don't worry dear, I'll be fine, I have flown over worse." And with that she took off.

_Soviet Navy submarine K-128 K.K. Rokossovsky, Alfa-class SSN_

It was about forty seconds after the _Rokossovsky_ surfaced that the hatch to the Conning tower bridge was finally opened. Keeping in mind the pressure difference between the inside of the submarine and the outside, the hatch was opened cautiously by the crew. It was only after the heard the hiss of air that they knew it was safe to open the hatch completely. They breathed in the fine fresh air after spending weeks without it. They then strode onto the conning tower – first captain Rankov, then Volkov, Vivienko, the navigator and finally the two Spetznaz officers, Serov and Petrolakov. With them were two of their troopers, Ensign Mikhail Yashin and Sergei Golikov, who wanted a view of their objective. Most of them, including the captain, were armed with binoculars, through which they regarded the land they were approaching. The Rokossovsky had its port side facing the mainland, so they all got a good view. Already in awe of the fact that they may possibly have travelled through time, they were now truly in awe of what they were seeing now.

They all saw the massive wreck of the _TK-95_, its great tail and propellers sticking up towards the sky, and wondered how it has been carried towards the mainland – but that was unimportant. What was important was that on board there were both key Soviet secrets and technology, and the slim possibility that some of the men would still be alive. Even if they were, Rankov realised now that the task of getting the rescue sub out to them was now much more difficult – they were separated from the _India_ by a mysterious tunnel, and quite possibly time itself, if Alexsandrov's theory was correct. And they also had no way of receiving orders from Moscow, due to the communications blackout, and so would not know if they had been ordered to detonate a warhead and destroy the wreck. Rankov knew they would only have to do that if the sub was in danger of capture. It seemed highly unlikely that the Americans knew about the tunnel any more than the Russians did, so maybe he did not have to carry out that mad order after all. All that was required now would be to strip the wreck of any sensitive data or information – such as launch codes, orders, warhead configurations, etc. That would be a relatively simple task, given that the wreck was now beached on land, and given that they had a full schematic of the _TK-95_ with them.

But the officers of the _Rokossovsky_ were not only focused on the massive shipwreck. They stared in wonder at the immense greenery within the curtain walls of mountains.

"Like paradise inside a fortress." Commented Volkov. Indeed it was. A vast landscape of tall trees and green everywhere. Vivienko thought that he could even see a stream and waterfall. Somewhere at the far end of this great valley was a large volcano, spewing a plume of smoke into the sky, like a Native American smoke signal, blotching the sky with volcanic cloud. There were strange formations amongst the ring of mountains – domes, spires and even a rock that seemed to look like a dinosaur. It was a truly picturesque and surreal scene – a prehistoric paradise, a true lost world. Truly so, because they could now see a large herd of dinosaurs close to the shore, gathered near to where the massive submarine lay wrecked. The men could not believe their eyes as they watched these creatures. Some of them, even the captain, wondered if they were dreaming.

Rankov was fascinated, especially since the herd seemed to be formed up of many different species. He would have expected each animal to stay with its own herd, but here they all seemed to be integrated. He was no dinosaur expert, but he was able to recognise a large Triceratops, crowded together with noisy duckbills, stegosaurs and enormous long-necked and long-tailed dinosaurs. The Soviet Captain was taken aback by their size. There was a large number of animals here of many kinds, and for some reason, were gathered close to the shore. As he watched these huge and majestic creatures, Rankov thought of Stravinsky's rite of spring. When he was much younger, his family had taken him to the local state cinema to see _Fantasia_, one of the American movies allowed in the Soviet Union. He had been fascinated after watching Disney's adaptation of Stravinsky's masterpiece, which involved animation of the dinosaur era. The memories of those imaginary creatures were beautifully replayed in front of his eyes as he watched the real creatures on shore. It was a childhood dream come true – to see what had been lost. Then Vivienko cracked a joke that broke the silence of awe.

"Oh boy, a welcoming party!"

This drew sniggers from his fellow officers. "Looks like the political officer has been well and truly proved wrong. These creatures are alive and real."

Rankov began to wonder if the dinosaurs really were anticipating his boat's arrival – especially as they all seemed to be staring at it. That was understandable – they were only animals, and both the _Rokossovsky _and the _TK-95_ would be completely unfamiliar to them, so naturally they would be curious. They were aliens in a world were humans had always been separated from by time – whether this was just a lost world that had managed to survive isolated over millions of years, or whether this really was planet Earth millions of years ago, and the _Rokossovsky_ had voyaged all the way back to this point in time.

Rankov knew that as animals, their curiosity would soon pass and they would return to browsing on their green pastures. Once the shore was clear, his men would be able to carry out their assigned mission. He just hoped there were no predatory dinosaurs around – they could cause serious trouble to any landing party. Then he heard Volkov call out.

"Look, up there, in the sky! That's no bird!"

All eyes turned to where the executive officer was pointing. Through his binoculars, Rankov saw a creature soaring on the air currents towards his submarine. Volkov was right – it was definitely not a bird. For one thing it flew differently – it seemed to glide rather than actively fly, only occasionally flapping. He also noticed through the binocular lens that instead of feathers, the wings were made off some kind of membrane, like a bat's. Its head was beaked and crested, and its skin bore the hint of scales. It was a strange and other-worldly creature. Then Volkov identified it.

"I don't believe it, it's a Pterosaur!"

"You know that creature?"

"Yes. They found many fossils of it in the Kazakh SSR. There are some in the Moscow museum."

Mrs. Petrie soared through the sky towards the dark floating giant. She noticed that on the side of the forward hump were the same enigmatic red markings found on the larger giant. Once again this included a red star. As she got closer she noticed the same trunk like objects on top of the hump. But what interested her more were a cluster of strange figures nestled on top of the hump. From her distance they appeared as nothing more than shadows in front of the sunlit water. She decided to chance at a closer look. She hung briefly in the air, and then entered a steep, soaring dive towards the figures on top of the giant. Mrs. Petrie's intentions were not to land on the giant, but pass low over it to get a view of the strange creatures that seemed to be riding on top of it. She did this, swooping low over their heads. As she did this, she heard cries and shouts from the two legged, pale creatures on top of the hump, some of whom wore more of those strange head covers the children had talked about after they had looked inside the larger giant. She listened to the shouting, hoping to understand what they were saying, but found she could not discern a word. The words they used were unrecognisable, the voices completely alien. Mrs. Petrie looked back, and saw that they were all watching her. She climbed once more, and decided that she would eventually make another pass to get another close look.

Rankov and his officers were still bewildered after being dive-bombed by that flying monster. They could not believe their eyes as they saw this animal that should be extinct head straight for them, and just about manage to clip their heads. Many of them were still jittery with amazement, particularly Yashin and Golikov, the two observing Spetznaz troopers. Their conversation went unnoticed by the others, who were still shouting in amazement.

"We need to get a camera" said Golikov, "No one's ever going to believe this!" But Yashin had other ideas.

"Better yet" he grinned "we can have the creature itself."

"How the hell are we going to catch that thing alive?"

"Who said anything about it being alive? It'll be just as good stuffed. And think how many scientists would pay for the body of a real dinosaur!"

"Allright then. I'll go to the stores and get the Dragunov."

"Ok, but hurry!"

Mrs. Petrie gained height, turned, and looked back towards the floating dark mass. It definitely seemed to be heading in the direction of the great valley. Was it looking for the bigger one, as the old longneck suggested? If so, then maybe it would not be so dangerous to the dinosaurs – as long as they left it to do what it needed to do. She then corrected herself – there was no it. _They_ were looking for the bigger giant. Those two-leggeds were the same as the dead creatures that the children had found inside the larger object. They seemed to ride in these dark giants. Why she could not know, but they did not seem to be dangerous so far. She decided to make another pass, and prepared to make a dive.

Golikov ran as fast as he could in the confined spaces inside the submarine. He got into the storeroom (which had been left unlocked by the Spetznaz) went over to where the team stored their kit, and then ran back to the conning tower, with the Dragunov sniper rifle hung over his shoulder. He climbed the ladder upwards swiftly like a monkey, ignoring the queries of the lieutenants still on duty down below as to what was going on, and what he was doing with a sniper rifle. When he finally got back to Yashin on the conning tower, he saw that the pterodactyl was still there. They both saw that the others were on a different part of the conning tower, with their backs turned, focused on the creature itself – and not on what they were doing. He handed the rifle to Yashin.

"Don't shoot yet. We don't want the body to be too far out. Let it fly in again, then take a shot so it falls where we can get it."

"Don't worry; I know what I'm doing."

Sure enough, the Pterosaur made another dive towards them. As it got closer, Yashin raised the rifle. Peering through the eyepiece, he lined up the crosshairs to the animal's chest. Looking at the measurements on the rangefinder, he determined the exact moment he should shoot. That moment came the closer the creature got, and now it was soaring very close. Yashin cocked the Dragunov.

"You're mine!"

Rankov and Vivienko had been watching the creature through their binoculars, and had briefly put down their binoculars to speak to one another when Vivienko noticed what was happening on the other side of the conning tower through the corner of his eye.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?! Stop!"

Rankov then noticed that the two Spetznaz troopers had a sniper rifle aimed at the creature.

"Stop, that's an order! Who gave you permission to do that?"

The shouts caused Yashin to turn swiftly, a sudden movement that spoiled his aim, but caused him to jerk his arm and wrist, and accidentally pull the trigger. The Dragunov fired as he turned.

The first thing Mrs. Petrie saw was a long, stick like object poking from the large hump, held by one of the two-leggeds, and pointed directly at her. She only saw this for a brief second before she heard a bang. Then she felt something zoom under her wing, making a whistling noise as it went. She gave a cry of alarm. Terrified, she banked sharply away from the giant, swiftly gaining height once more. She was wrong about there being no danger. Not daring to look back at the creatures onboard the giant floater, she headed straight back to the valley. As she left, she heard more shouting among the two leggeds. She could not understand a word, but to her, it sounded like an argument.

The Captain was furious with the Spetznaz commander, Serov, and Serov in turn could not understand what his men had done wrong.

"I will not have trigger-happy idiots on my boat!" Rankov roared. "You don't just allow one of your men or every tom, dick and harry to break into your goddamned weapons store and take out something like that!" He gestured to the Dragunov, which had now been confiscated by Petrolakov.

"I will keep our store locked. And Yashin has learned from his mistake."

"I'm bloody sure he has!" Rankov snapped sarcastically. "We can't have ammunition wasted. And we can't have wayward men doing what they like, without any control from their superior officers. What did you allow your men to do in Afghanistan? Did you let them go around shooting and looting wantonly? This is the Soviet military, not some pleasure cruise or joyride! You keep your men disciplined, or either I or my officers will do it for you."

Serov gave a stern grimace. He then turned to Petrolakov.

"Yuri, put the Dragunov back where we stored it, and lock up this time. And take Yashin and Golikov back to their quarters."

His deputy obeyed, and took the scowling troopers down below. Serov then spoke again.

"If you want our respect Comrade Captain, I suggest you not lose your temper so much. Besides, our mission should be the more pressing concern. Should we land and search the wreck now?"

Rankov looked back at the dinosaurs on the shore, and noticed that the flying reptile had returned to them. They would still be gathered there. And though they all seemed to be herbivores, some could be more aggressive than others, particularly the Triceratops – he could now see two adults on the shore. After that half-arsed, half-brained stunt by the Spetznaz, they might be more inclined to see the _Rokossovsky_ as a threat. It would be foolish to send out a landing party now.

"No. We shall wait until night falls, and go in under cover of darkness. And tell your men that they must get aboard the wreck and act swiftly. I don't want to attract any unwanted attention over there."

Having acknowledged the Captain's orders, they all went down below. The _Rokossovsky _stayed away from the shore for the rest of the day. But its menacing silhouette still remained on the horizon in front of the great valley.

_The Place of the Mysterious Giant, Great Valley_

Far out on the big water, the dinosaurs watched the dark, humped shape on the horizon. It moved through the waves gracefully, with an almost sinister appearance purpose. Grandpa longneck looked at it through his tired old eyes, and saw in it something truly and unknown, unnatural and unsettling. What was it? And Why had it and its larger cousin come here? The thing seemed to be as dark as the unknown and mysterious beyond itself. It truly seemed like something to be feared. Once the flyer returned he hoped, they would know more – and hopefully calm the fear that both he and his fellow dinosaurs felt.

Sure enough, Mrs. Petrie returned gliding and landing swiftly. She seemed to be panting and shaking, as if traumatised. Mr. Threehorn spotted and questioned this instantly.

"What's the matter with you? What happened?"

"That floater – I think it's dangerous."

"Why?"

"When I passed close to it, I saw two-legged creatures riding in it. I think they attacked me."

"How?"

"When I passed close the second time, I heard a bang from a long stick one of them was carrying. And something passed under my wing really fast."

All the dinosaurs started to become panicked jittery, all talking to one another loudly nervously. But Topsy quickly intervened.

"Pull yourselves together! They're still miles out! And if they are dangerous, we'll show some backbone and fight them off!"

"Do not be so rash, my friend." said Grandma Longneck urgently. "We don't know anything about these creatures. Maybe they thought mama flyer was trying to attack them, and responded." Tria nodded.

"I agree. They may be just as nervous about us as we are of them. If they do come to land, maybe we could and work something out."

"That would be difficult." Panted Mrs. Petrie.

"Why?"

"I heard them shouting and talking. The words they used were strange – I could not understand what they were saying. A lot like how we can't understand what sharpteeth say."

Topsy immediately leapt on this.

"Then they're probably just as bad! We'll have to deal with them the same way we deal with sharpteeth when they come into our valley!" This was met with a chorus of approval from most of the other dinosaurs. He then turned to the old longneck. "So what is your decision longneck? Are we going to let them come and attack us, or prepare to fight?"

Grandpa longneck sighed. Mr. Threehorn was a highly reliable individual, and good as a leading member of the herd. He was courageous, quick thinking, aggressive and always prepared for the worst, but he lacked patience and level-headedness. He did not have the wisdom and fairness that most longnecks possessed – this had been one of the reasons why the herd was lead jointly between the two old dinosaurs. The longneck made his decision.

"They do not seem to be trying to land yet." He said. "It is best that we all keep away from this part of the valley. They are probably only here to recover the mysterious giant. We will let them do that, and leave. That way no one will get hurt. But if they try to venture into the valley and attack, we will fight them off, as you suggested. For now, we keep away from here – all of us, especially the children."

And so the dinosaurs left the plateau, with Mr. Threehorn grumbling. Surely the longneck had to see that those creatures on the floater were dangerous anyway? They had already attacked the flyer, and if they came onto the shore, they would attack the whole valley as well. They had to be prepared to fight. And Mr. Threehorn was most definetly prepared to fight.

Cera was also grumbling just as much as her father, but for different reasons. She wanted to explore the mysterious giant more. How were they supposed to know if the two-leggeds were dangerous if they did not learn more about them? She wanted herself and her friends to be the ones to find out first. She let her thoughts known to Littlefoot, and conveyed her plan to him.

"Cera, you're crazy." He said when she told him. "You heard what Grandpa said. Besides, It'll be dark, and we won't be able to see well."

"Humph! Poor excuse! We've done stuff at night before, and we'll do it again! I'm telling you Littlefoot, we have got to get another look at the giant, tonight! And if the two-leggeds come ashore, we'll slip past them in the dark."

"But what is they see us?" moaned Petrie. He was already scared stiff of what lay offshore, after his mother narrowly escaped being possibly killed. But Cera remained adamant they should return.

"We go tonight. If none of you come, I'll go myself!"

**Author's note: I sincerely apologise to my readers that I have taken a whole year to update!!! However, work, university and other worldly cares have caused a writer's block which I have been trying to overcome. Hopefully It should be gone if this chapter is read and reviewed, which is why I have made it especially long and eventful, just for you! I vow to finish this story by the end of the year, provided it is still read.**

**Yours sincerely,**

**H.G. Wells**


	10. Chapter 10

**Land Before Time – Voyage through time**

**Chapter Ten**

_Planet Earth, over 65 million years B.C._

_Great Valley_

As the bright circle began to set in a fiery blaze on the horizon the dark, sulphuric clouds of the smoking mountains once more gained their tinge of fiery colours, oranges, reds, even yellows and a hints of crimson and pink here and there. If the nearby volcanic activity had made every morning in this long, hot summer of the great valley a red dawn, then this was truly a red sunset. Flyers soared about the reddish sky, their cries echoing as if heralding the passing of another boiling summer's day, giving way to the relative coolness of the night. The bright circle, by now a fading orb of red and orange, sank below the horizon over the new water, and the ghostly white orb of the night circle began to emerge from the other side of the valley.

As the skies began to darken and the stars began to flicker into being, the dinosaur herds made their way back to their nests. The cloudless summer evening allowed for a spectacular view of the sky that night – the multitudes of stars in their constellations burned brightly alongside the night circle, sometimes joined by the bright streak of a flying rock hurtling through the night sky. A human ear might have heard the tired bellowing and braying of great beasts for a half hour or so, before that gave way to the eerie sounds of nocturnal animals, as well as the ever present sound of the thundering falls in one part of the valley. Human eyes would have been able to spot the movement of such animals relatively easily in the moonlight, as well as the sinister dark shape out in the new water that was slowly approaching the valley. Such eyes may also have spotted five day creatures that had crept out of their beds, rendezvoused, and were now heading to the plateau where the mysterious giant monolith lay, seemingly dead.

Littlefoot, who had been previously sceptical about Cera's plan to explore deeper inside the mysterious giant, was now adamant that they should press on. In some ways, he was now more confident than Cera, who was now beginning to be hit home by the reality of what she had suggested. As for the others, once they saw that Littlefoot and Cera wanted to go, they agreed to do the same. After all, it was a good night – the night circle was bright and full, and they could find their way easily. But then Cera began to have her first doubts.

"Littlefoot...I was just thinking...we can see well outside, but what about when we're inside the thing? It's going to be completely dark."

Then Ducky found a solution. Glowing buzzers were out tonight, their rear ends light up like stars greenish stars. She grabbed a few, handing two to Petrie, and carrying two herself.

"That will not be a problem. The glowing buzzers will light our way, they will, they will."

With that settled, they continued. Then Cera began to have more doubts.

"Err...Littlefoot?"

"Yes, what is it Cera?"

"Remember all those dead bodies we saw...what if there are..." she gulped. "...More of them in there?"

"You weren't that scared once you found out they were all dead before. None of them will come after you."

"And what about that other big black swimmer? What if we find the living two-leggeds from that one coming after us?"

"That didn't bother you before."

"Well...maybe I've changed my mind! This _is_ a dumb idea after all!"

"It was _your_ idea Cera. Nobody asked you to come. And nobody's making you go any further."

Cera halted and paused for a moment, considering her fears and doubts, as well as Littlefoot's words. But as usual, pride drove her on. She stuck up her nose.

"Humph!"

And with that she caught up with Littlefoot and the others, and the five continued their journey to the plateau of the mysterious giant. Once again, they reached the shore of the new water. Once again, they saw the massive black monolith, its rear end projecting upwards towards the night sky. Fortunately, the mountain track which lead up to the ledge from where the giant could be accessed was still visible, although in the darkness the dinosaurs would have to be extra careful that they did not slip and fall over the edge. And of course, lurking on the horizon, the dark shape of the smaller monolithic swimmer was still visible, bathed in the silver moonlight, a sinister black and silver spectre slowly and silently moving towards the great valley. It then dawned on Littlefoot that while it had remained stationary offshore during the day, it was now moving closer to the shore of the small plateau.

"He turned to the others. We should get up that mountain track, and fast, before..."

He paused.

"Before they see us."

_Soviet Navy submarine K-128 K.K. Rokossovsky, Alfa-class SSN_

The Captain stood atop the broad conning tower, together with his first and second officers, and Serov and Petrolakov, the two Spetznaz officers. Also standing by his side was Vladimir Mishin, the political officer. As only the Captain and the political officer knew the full extent of the _Rokossovsky_'s orders, the two men had been discussing their new course of action. Their initial orders were to search the wreck for survivors – if there were none, they were to first recover sensitive information from the _TK-95_. This included codes for the arming and launching of nuclear weapons, the captain's log and orders, details on patrol areas for Soviet submarines, communication ciphers and codes and information on the submarine's systems. The Soviet navy could not allow any of this to fall into the wrong hands. According to the information he was permitted to provide to the Spetznaz team, it was all stored in a large safe in the Captain's cabin, which could only be opened by a key that would be found on the body of Captain Roman Pudovkin. So his body had to be found first – a job for the Spetznaz that was not envied.

After the sensitive data was recovered, the orders then told Rankov to report this through a radio transmission back to the Northern Fleet headquarters, which would be subsequently relayed to the Kremlin. There were then two possible further orders – either to leave the area immediately and return to base, or if Moscow felt the wreck was under risk of being recovered by the enemy, an authorisation to recover a single nuclear warhead and arm it. If the threat of the _TK-95_'s technical secrets being recovered by NATO forces became real, then he would receive an order from Moscow to plant the warhead inside the wreck, rig it up with a remote detonator, and then explode the bomb from a safe distance. This would destroy the _TK-95_, preventing its recovery.

The thought of possibly having to set off a thermonuclear weapon plagued Rankov's mind. At times, alone in his cabin he thought about how the men aboard the _Enola Gay_ bomber must have felt as they dropped one of the world's first nuclear weapons, and watched it fall upon Hiroshima, and watched that city turn to ash. What would be the consequences of doing such a thing in a day and age where thousands of nuclear warheads were pointed at each other, just waiting to destroy the world several times over? He had almost welcomed with open arms the idea that his submarine may have travelled through time – he was far less likely to start World War Three here than in his time.

Also, there was the problem of the communications blackout that had occurred since passing through the tunnel. Rankov had no way of reporting his findings back to Moscow, and Moscow had no way of giving him new orders. And there did not seem to be any danger of any Americans capturing and boarding the huge SSBN. It was likely that they, having witnessed what the tunnels currents could do, had chosen to stay away from it altogether. Taking this into account, the whole operation of going to extreme lengths to keep Soviet secrets onboard the wrecked submarine secret seemed unnecessary.

Still Rankov had his orders, and as Admiral Nevsky had once told him "Always expect the unexpected, and expect to see the unseen." Just because the Americans had so far stayed away from the tunnel and therefore the wreck did not mean they would do this forever. An American expedition may one day find this strange land before time, as this diminutive Soviet expedition had already done. In that case, it was wise to make sure that nothing sensitive could be recovered, in the interests of protecting the security of the Soviet Union.

Many in Russia at this time were paranoid of increasing western aggression, and losing data to the enemy on their precious nuclear deterrent would be a bitter blow. The Soviet government did not want to see its defences compromised as they had been in 1941, at the hands of Nazi Germany and her allies. Over 20 million Soviet citizens had perished – the armed forces had been humiliated, and there was a strong desire to take every possible measure to prevent such a tragedy happening again. It was no surprise that in the face of increasing hostility and military build up on the western side of the Iron curtain, that the Soviet Union's defences had become more tense and prepared for a possible war. They could not afford to have their nuclear missile forces - particularly those based in submarines - compromised, thus losing their main line of defence.

These thoughts raced through the Captain's head as his boat approached the coast. Through his binoculars (which were fitted with night vision) he could see that the area where the _TK-95_ wreck lay was completely deserted. None of the dinosaurs they had seen during the day were present tonight. Most likely they were now asleep, exhausted after a long day of feeding on the lush vegetation that covered the valley. The whole shore was bathed in silver moonlight, which enabled one to see it fairly clearly, even without night vision. Needless to say, Serov's boarding party had taken night vision goggles with them – they would be required to find their way in the dark bowels of the wrecked submarine.

The _Rokossovsky_ slowly navigated its way towards the shore – but Rankov did not intend to place his boat so close that his crew could get their feet on dry land by means of a gangway. He intended to anchor the submarine half a kilometre or so offshore, so as not to attract any "unwanted attention", that might be directed at the strange dark mass lying berthed at the headland, as he had called it. The boarding party would disembark by means of inflatable boats, which were to be rowed stealthily towards the shore. No outboard motors would be used – they were too noisy. Once the boats reached the shore, the Spetznaz team would disembark, making their way up the mountain track (that they had spotted during their offshore surveillance of the wreck site, which they had conducted after the incident with the pterosaur), boarding the _TK-95_, finding the captain's key, and retrieving all secret or sensitive documents. The team would keep in touch with their mother craft by hand held radio, which every member six man team carried. There was only one risk to the operation – which Rankov was regarding right at that moment.

"That damn moon!" he hissed. "Your men might end up being spotted with that amount of light, lieutenant."

Lieutenant Serov remained calm, his face unchanging as always. "Do not worry, sir. My men will make the best out of any situation. We have taken weapons just in case."

"Of course. But only use them if you have to, and don't get involved in a big bad shoot-out. If you get into trouble, get back to the boats as quickly as possible. Understood?"

"Aye, Aye sir. But what if we are cut off from our boats?"

"Then you will hold your position and mark it with the red flare that you have been provided. I will bring this sub to shore. We have a high beam searchlight and an AAMG to cover your retreat back here. We will deploy the gangway double time, you will run aboard, and we will all get the hell out of here. Understood?"

"Aye, Aye sir. Have we reached the deployment point yet?"

"We are close. We will be there in two minutes. I think that will be enough time to bring your men up here and fill them in."

"Yes sir. Petrolakov! Bring those lazy bastards up here for briefing and deployment, pronto!"

"Yes sir!"

Within minutes Petrolakov returned with the other four men. Like their two officers, they were fully equipped for action, all carrying rifles, all clad in camouflaged uniform, their faces doused in camouflage paint, with bergens on their backs. They stood stiffly to attention in the presence of both their commanding officer and the captain, who promptly went over the details of their mission at hand.

"You know what to do. Your current mission is to seize the documents – and _all _of the documents. We must not leave any secrets for the Americans to pick up. Make sure that all sensitive data from the boats computer banks is downloaded and erased. If you find anyone alive, radio us and I will bring this boat to shore and pick them up myself, seeing us how those rescue people aboard their own sub probably won't have the guts to go as far as we have. You'll have a schematic of the whole boat to help you find what you need to recover. Focus on this task only – don't go on some big lizard shoot. We still don't know what might be over there. Tread carefully. I don't want to end up losing men of your exceptional calibre. Our county needs men like you in these times. I am confident you will complete all of your assigned tasks – because you are the best of the best!"

"Ourrah!"

The men let out one combined cheer. With that, Serov took charge, barking orders as they assembled the two boats.

"Come on, move it! Or I'll make you all swim right over there!"

Both rafts were inflated; the oars were assembled and fitted into their sockets. Serov then quickly assigned his unit to each of the boats as they bobbed about in the swell, sometimes bumping against the hull of the _Rokossovsky_ with dull thumps.

"Yashin! Golikov! You're with me in number one. Petrolakov, you take Korenchenko and Rezinsky in number two. Let's move out!"

The troopers took positions in the two boats. Both Serov and his deputy took up their position at the bow, while the two troopers in each boat grappled the oars aft. With that, they began to silently row away from the black steel hull. But though they rowed silently, they worried about what they might run into. They all remembered the monstrous creature that attacked their submarine. While it had bitten off more than it could chew as far as the _Rokossovsky_ was concerned, a small rubber boat would be a good evening snack for whatever might be stalking them beneath the waves. Trooper Oleg Rezinsky saw it as an opportunity to gently needle his younger comrade.

"Don't worry Pasha" he whispered. "If something does come up and tries to eat this raft, I'll pull you out its mouth before you can even shit yourself."

His comrade, Pavel Korenchenko, gulped heavily. He was new to the Spetznaz, only 18 years old. He didn't want to screw this mission up, and he even less wanted to die. How would his poor mother in the Ukraine react right now, if she knew where her son was, in a monster infested ocean headed towards and unknown shore? Rezinsky was only joking, but he took it hard. Petrolakov noticed this.

"Stay quiet and keep us on course! Keep yourself in there Pasha."

He sighed. He had first met Pavel when he was a 17 year old conscript in Afghanistan. Petrolakov and Serov's Spetznaz platoon were part of an assault mission on a mujahedin stronghold, located in a remote mountain village at high altitude. Their platoon and two others had been secretly inserted by helicopter on all sides, and advanced through the mountains on the village under cover of darkness. They had then come calling with some heavy duty stuff – machine guns, RPGs, flamethrowers, grenades, the full treatment, and those _dukhi_ had no idea what had hit them. Soon enough the mujahedin saw the Mi-24 _Hind_ helicopter gunships (which they knew with dread as "the devil's chariot") coming into attack, and they instantly fled in terror – not that that saved them. The Spetznaz and the helicopter pilots left none alive, knowing that those bandits would apply that same rule to them. Amongst the dead were several Pakistani military advisers, and in one of the buildings inside the compound, was one terrified and whimpering Russian boy soldier – Pavel.

He and his comrades had been captured when the _dukhi_ attacked their convoy in the mountains, and they had all been tortured to death by those animals. Only Pavel had survived the torture. Determined to save the boy from the wretched life of a Soviet conscript in Afghanistan, Petrolakov and his CO had spoken to their superiors about the boy. Since he had been tough enough to endure brutal enemy torture, he was accepted into the Spetznaz, and after a period of brutal training Serov brought him into his platoon. That had been just about a year ago.

Now Korenchenko was heading into a potentially dangerous situation once more, and Petrolakov just hoped the kid would keep his nerve.

In the other boat, the atmosphere was just as tense. Serov's eyes were fixed on the darkened, rocky shore in front of him. Behind him, Yashin and Golikov paddled silently – but they themselves were not silent.

"If only I had shot that damn bird" growled Yashin "I would have had it stuffed and mounted in my apartment!"

"There'll be plenty more over there," grinned Golikov, "enough for both our apartments and all the museums in the world."

"Hell yeah. Lucky we took the Dragunov with us."

"Shut your traps, both of you!" hissed Serov. "Or I'll have you stuffed and mounted!"

After that they kept quiet. They would never dare to try to confront or even backtalk their leader. While he had seen no fault in trying to shoot that Pterosaur back onboard the sub, he concurred with the captain that there was no place for that on a stealthy mission, or for idiotic banter. His men needed to stay disciplined and alert if they wanted to stay alive while on duty and on operations.

Amazingly enough, they encountered no large sea creatures as they rowed to shore. There was the occasional small splash of a leaping fish, and Petrolakov thought for a moment that he had seen a spiral shelled mollusc in the water, but other than that the waters seemed empty and peaceful. Sure enough, both boats arrived at the shore without incident. They found it difficult to pull the boats up on shore though, as it was not sand but solid rock, being part of a landscape that was once further away from the sea. But they eventually managed, and soon they were all on shore.

All around them it was very dark – and eerily quiet, though the sound of the sea and wind was perfectly audible. Any large animals on land would probably be asleep right now – which made Serov's job easier. He whispered an order.

"Night vision!"

They all lowered their night vision goggles fixed to their forage caps, so they could see perfectly, both in the dark outside and the inevitable pitch blackness inside the _TK-95_. Serov gave a hand signal and they started off in the direction of the wrecked SSBN, keeping their assault rifles close, walking in a line moving through the blackness and clad in their camouflage, but not quite invisible.

_Great Valley_

_Close to the edge of the new water_

Littlefoot and his friends were far along the passage along the mountainside that lead to the mysterious giant when he saw a row of dark figures moving along the shore of the new water. He knew instantly they were those by now fabled, mysterious two-leggeds. In the night they appeared to be just as dark as the mysterious giant – and just as intimidating. He swallowed hard.

"Cera look!"

"What is it?" she said irritably. She was trying to climb over a rock when Littlefoot nudged her.

"Quiet or they might hear you!"

"Who?"

He nudged her head towards what he had seen. There they were, a line of two-leggeds, moving stealthily along the shore, in the direction of the mysterious giant. They appeared to be black in the night, but the moonlight glinted off the objects that they all seemed to carry on their arms, which they pointed now and then in every direction – objects that glinted with silver, as bright as the teeth of any predator.

Cera opened her mouth to scream, but then ducky, Petrie and Littlefoot rushed to shut it. Despite this, Petrie then began whimpering.

"They coming to us! They might eat us!"

"Do not worry Petrie" said Ducky reassuringly "You are to small and scrawny for them to bother to eat, you are, you are."

Petrie put both his hands on his waist and gave an unamused look, and a sarcastic reply.

"That make me feel much better."

"Nobody gets eaten if they don't see or hear us." hissed Littlefoot. "We'll go inside the mysterious giant, and wait for them to go away. They won't see us in there. Let's get in there before they see us."

The five young dinosaurs quickened their pace, while taking great care not to slip and fall from the mountainside. Hopefully if the two-leggeds did hear them they would be inside the mysterious giant before the figures could see them. Besides, they were fairly far away, so they would have a hard time catching up with the determined little dinosaurs.

"Did you just hear something?"

Petrolakov turned to the source of the question. It was Pavel.

"I thought I heard something up on that cliff face"

"Rubbish you're just hearing things" snorted Golikov. He then muttered to Yashin. "That little baby's scared of the dark again."

"Quiet!" hissed Serov. He had not heard, and did not care what it was. For all he knew, it might be a small mammal - if it was something dangerous, his men would handle it if they saw it. He looked up to where Korenchenko had pointed. Through his night vision goggles, he noticed a narrow mountain track that ran along the cliff faces towards the wreck. It seemed to be the only way up there. He would have to be careful – there was a sheer drop if anyone lost his footing in the main part of the hike towards the _TK-95_. But he and his men had been trained in mountaineering, and had seen more difficult places than this in Afghanistan.

He pointed towards the track, and the rest of the squad took a look before nodding in understanding. Before embarking, they shouldered their rifles – which apart from Yashin's Dragunov were stocky AKS-74Us. These were just one of many variants of Mikhail Kalashnikov's mythical AK-47. It was developed from the second-generation of the original rifle, the AK-74, which like it's earlier variant was produced in versions which had a folding stock frame, leading to the designation AKS-74. The "U" type was basically a compacted carbine version of this weapon – making it lighter, suitable for fighting in confined spaces and far more accurate than its predecessors. As a result it had become popular with Soviet Special Forces, for whom Kalashnikov had principally designed it for.

All of the rifles Serov's squad carried were fitted with torches, though the Spetznaz CO had gone a step further and fitted a grenade launcher to his weapon. They were able to easily fold up their stocks with a click, and stow the now shortened assault rifle on their backs, where it would not interfere with negotiating that narrow pass. (Yashin would have more trouble, having idiotically brought his big sniper rifle against his leader's advice). Serov took the first step up that narrow track, ever calm, with that fixed expression he always wore, whatever the situation.

Petrolakov admired his leader's calmness and quick thinking in any situation, and the way he swiftly took decisive action in the face of danger. He remembered one time when he and Serov were doing an undercover reconnaissance in Jalalabad, not far from the Afghanistan's Pakistani border. The Soviet local command and Afghan secret police had received various tip offs that the enemy were secretly getting supplies and ammunition from somewhere inside the city, and the latest tip off gave some idea where. Both of the Spetznaz men had been sent to do covert reconnaissance in the suspicious area, driving a civilian car posing as Afghans, with Serov as driver and Petrolakov as passenger.

Quite by chance they came across a large tarpaulin covered truck in a bad part of town, which was blocking the road straight on in front of them. There were three men hurriedly loading crates and weapons into it, and they themselves were armed. Two others were standing watch, one directly facing the car. Both had grenade launchers fitted to their Kalashnikovs. As they got closer, the two Spetznaz men got the feeling the bandit had noticed they were not Afghan.

Normally the Spetznaz would have turned away and driven to the side street that lead away from the blocked road, and headed to back to headquarters to report what they had seen. But this time they were coming into the street too fast, and the time between seeing the mujahedin truck and being compromised by that guard was far too short. Serov had acted swiftly, and before Yuri could say anything to dissuade him, he slammed hard on the brakes and put the car into a broadside skid, shrieking towards the blocked road – and that guard.

Yuri smiled as he remembered the face of that Mujahedin as he saw two tons of steel car hurtling towards him, before that two tons slammed into his legs and sent him barrel rolling across the windscreen before landing on the road with a thud. Yuri and Konstantin had then bundled out of the car and opened up with their silenced pistols, quickly killing the other guard and two of the men at the truck, before the last man threw up his arms shouting "don't shoot!" in Urdu, Farsi, Arabic and Russian in quick succession. The result – three _dukhi_ dead, one badly maimed, a whole hoard of weapons and ammunition found in the truck and a nearby house where they had been stored, and one prisoner so terrified that the Afghan police who came to pick him up found (much to their amusement) that he had soaked his clothes with urine. They were also pleased to find that he was a Saudi arms dealer rumoured to be operating in the city. He had just been handing over his goods from a pre-closed deal before the two Russians had stopped him. Serov was a damn good soldier, despite his brutal reputation.

That reputation was mostly stoked by rumours that he had been part of the covert Spetznaz assault force that had been the vanguard of the Soviet invasion of that hostile mountain country, back in the December of 1979, which had stormed the Kabul presidential palace and shot in cold blood the wayward Afghan communist leader, Hafizullah Amin, along with his entire family and bodyguard force. Yuri wondered what kind of a man would find the nerve to do such a thing, even under orders. Still, he trusted his leader, who had lead his squad through many life-threatening situations and nearly always helped them pull through. His men were generally afraid of him – but that fear was combined with respect, which Yuri believed to be important in a good leader.

Out here, though, Serov himself had feelings they might be facing something even worse than _dukhi_ or some two-bit gun peddler. He had already seen a giant predator at sea nearly eat the sub – so what might be living on land? That was the main reason why, with some justification, he had attached a grenade launcher to his rifle.

By now the five young heroes had reached their mysterious destination – the giant black floater, so large that to them, size itself no longer seemed to matter. When they had climbed onto it during the day it's dark, unnatural aura had intimidated them – at night, that aura was even greater, and the dinosaurs were now even more frightened of what they might find in there, and those others who were now behind them and making their way to the giant. Cera had originally been determined in her desire to explore the unknown bowels of the thing, but now she seemed to have lost all nerve.

"What if they catch us? We should go back!"

"It's too late for that now Cera" whispered Littlefoot. "They're already on the pathway and if we go back now we'll run straight into them. Better to get into the giant and hide there."

Once more they climbed onto the black floater's smooth surface. They had left that opening open after their last venture into the interior, so it was now a simple matter if going back in and climbing down those cold silver footholds, into the darkness below. Even when the five shone their little fireflies inside, visibility was still virtually nil. Spike was the last to climb down, and being Spike, he did not close the hatchway after him. He and the others did not know it, but that would be a big mistake.

Once more they felt the water in that cave-like place up to their ankles. Once more they saw all that strange paraphernalia that filled the cave. Once more they breathed in the foul whiff of decay and death that dominated the whole setting. And once more they saw the dead bodies, though they were somewhat more prepared for it this time – even Cera did not scream – thought their stench was virtually unbearable. Cera then spoke.

"What do you want to do now? What more is there to see in here besides dead two-leggeds?"

"There is nothing but stinky dead bodies, yep, yep, yep." said Ducky in a frightened tone.

Littlefoot shone his glowing buzzer around the room, and realised there were two other openings on either side – one was closed, but the nearest one was, by a stroke of luck, wide open. He made his decision.

"That way, come on!"

They moved through the hatchway, and down a narrow passage. Then something strange happened. Red light suddenly flickered along the corridor. The dinosaurs, temporarily frightened, cried out and cringed together. But then they understood when they saw the source of the light.

"What that thing?" cringed Petrie.

"It looks like a behind of a big glowing buzzer" whispered Ducky, looking at the framed object on the wall that glowed with red light. It continued to flicker, as if it was struggling to keep glowing.

"Well as long as it stays glowing we might not need the glowing buzzers."

After saying this, Littlefoot pressed on, with the others following. The corridor was still partially flooded, making it uncomfortable for their legs, especially since the ground they were treading on was just as cold and hard as the giant's outer shell. It was clearly the same material, since it clanged as their heavy feet stepped on it. It was even more uncomfortable trying to keep balance – as the giant was slanted forwards, the interior was slanted also. The dinosaurs could tell that they were heading to what appeared to be the front of this dark monster, as the passageway was tilted forwards, and they were tightly gripping on the hard surface to avoid sliding forwards. The sheer size of the giant meant that it also took some time for the little creatures to walk through its insides.

Soon they entered a large passageway, dimly lit by the other flickering lights. Littlefoot noticed that the giant's interior was becoming more and more flooded the further forward they went – now the water was up to their waists. Presumably all the flood water was concentrated further towards the front, which was partially submerged. The area towards the back must be dry. Littlefoot did not think his friends would want to have to swim to explore further. Ducky might, but he couldn't imagine Cera or Petrie wanting to.

"It looks like it'll be totally flooded up ahead. Let's go back and see if there's anything the other way."

They were about to do so when they heard voices coming from the direction of that strange room that they had arrived in when they first ventured into the interior. Voices which they could hear, but could not understand. A shiver went down their spines.

"T-t-two l-l-leggeds!" chattered Petrie, was beak quivering. "They try to kill mother, they come for us!"

"Petrie be quiet!" hissed Littlefoot.

"We can't get out" said Cera quietly "They're blocking the way out." The she moaned softly "What made me come up with such a dumb idea? We should never have come here."

"Cera..." growled Littlefoot.

"You must be quiet" warned ducky "or they will hear us, they will, they will."

"Ducky's right" said Littlefoot calmly. "They probably know this part's too flooded. If we hide behind these round pillars, we'll be okay."

The round pillars were structures that seemed to dominate this passage – large and hard, they were made of the same clanging material as everything else in this place, but they looked like they were much thicker. There were about twenty of them placed in this long passage, in two rows on either side of the corridor, with about ten pillars per row. They seemed fixed to the ground, and protruded through the ceiling. They had those same strange red markings on them, and as the dinosaurs hid behind one, they noticed a marking they had not seen before. It was a yellow triangle with a black border. In that triangle was a strange black symbol – a black dot with three black shapes positioned around it. Cera looked at it, before turning to the others.

"I don't even want to know what that means."

Those who knew what that symbol meant and what those large pillars actually were would probably have agreed with her. The dinosaurs concealed themselves lower in the water behind the pillar, hoping not be seen. They were unaware that the cylinder they hid behind and the others in this passageway contained a terrible power capable of destroying their world many times over – and that the slightest penetration of what lay within could lead to catastrophe.

_Soviet Navy submarine TK-95, Typhoon-class SSBN_

When Serov's men finally arrived at the _TK-95_ wreck, they wasted no time in finding a way on to its deck. They had all imagined that getting inside a huge, heavily sealed vessel that had a strong outer shell designed to survive crushing depths would not be easy. They had brought cutting equipment in one of their bergens, just in case the sealed hatches refused to give way to elbow grease. They had certainly not expected to find one of the main hatches on deck open – particularly not the one that lead to the command room.

Someone or something had turned the handle and opened it, that sealed hatch couldn't have just opened on its own. But then who had opened it?

"Maybe survivors?" suggested Korenchenko. "Perhaps they opened it from inside and managed to get out."

"Not likely" Petrolakov mused. "This sub was underwater before we came – there'd have been no way of getting out through there, unless somebody survived during the time this sub was brought here by that storm."

"And even if that were the case they'd have been waiting for us on the beach" Serov concluded. "It's more likely somebody opened this from outside."

"But who?" Pavel had wondered out loud. Then Yashin got out his Dragunov and clutched it tightly, pointing it forward.

"Americans." He growled. The warrant officer gave him a sceptical look.

"Is it possible they got here before us?"

"Who cares? There's only one way to find out!"

He was about to charge down the hatch and into the interior of the submarine, before Serov stopped him with the back of his hand. His face slipped into its intimidation pose.

"If the enemy did get here before us, he might just be waiting in ambush somewhere around here." He took Yashin by the scruff of his neck and pointed him away from the hatch he was itching to get down in the hope of meeting some Americans to fight.

"You go take Rezinsky and search the perimeter. We'll wait here. See if you can find any Yanks in the dark – notify me by radio and engage them if you do."

He then lightly pushed him on his way. Rezinsky followed him, and they disappeared into the dark. Ten minutes passed and they still did not return. Petrolakov had his doubts about there being any Americans at all. It seemed like a waste of time, sending those two out and having him and the others just standing here, while their primary objective lay waiting beneath their feet. Deciding his feelings were right, he got the nerve to speak up, and turned to his CO.

"Listen; if the Yanks are already here wouldn't we see some traces?"

"They might have a sub already out there..."

"I'm sure our sonar back aboard our sub would have detected it. And if there are Navy SEALs out there they would have ambushed us the moment we got out of our boats. So even if they are camped somewhere here, they don't know _we're_ here. Besides, our mission isn't engagement, it's a stealth mission to retrieve secret documents in that sub – regardless if there's enemy activity or not."

Serov nodded in understanding. Yuri was a great second in command, and he always valued his input. Their orders were to get that data – and nothing else. That would still have been the case if there were Americans here. They would be compromising the mission by picking a fight with the enemy – the Captain had been right when he had told the lieutenant to stay focused on the task and not go looking for trouble. He reached for his hand held radio, and switched it on.

"Belay my last order; you can bring Oleg back with you now."

"But sir there might be G.I.s out there. I'm just waiting to..."

"That's an order!" snapped the CO. "We're here on retrieval, not for gunfights with cowboys. Be back here on the double."

Yashin soon returned, grumbling under his breath that he had not got the chance to unleash his coveted sniper rifle on any enemy soldiers who might be hiding out there. Rezinsky, by contrast, was unmoved – he was here to follow orders. If Serov said jump, he would say how high. He loved action just as much as every man in the Spetznaz did, but there was a time for that and a time for obeying orders. All of the men in the platoon now knew what their immediate task was. Serov pointed down into the open hatch, and they all understood. They climbed down silently, swiftly and skilfully, showing their clear training on the obstacle course. Soon enough, they were all in the room where the ladder led to – the main control room, which they found to be flooded up to their ankles. They shone their torches attached to their rifles all around, and it was easy to see that there was little chance of any of the crew being rescued alive here.

The pale, stinking, partly rotting bodies caused some of the squad members to turn away in horror and disgust. For Korenchenko it became almost too much and he turned away and threw up on the flooded floor, adding to the stench.

"Woos!" hissed Golikov, "can't you control your guts? Oh wait." He moved closer to Pavel's face. "You don't have any."

"All right that's enough!" Serov barked. He then steadied his tone. "Take it easy men. We were expecting this."

He then took out a folded copy of a schematic map of the _TK-95_ and opened it, taking another torch out and illuminating it. He and Petrolakov regarded it closely. It was clear that their immediate task was to gain access to the captain's quarters – that was where the safe with all the sensitive information was. But to get inside the safe, they would need a key – and the only key that could open that safe was on captain Pudovkin's person.

"Allright, let's find the captain."

Petrolakov said this grimly as they all begin to shine their torches and trudge through the floodwater. It wasn't long before Yuri felt his boot strike against something soft. That something then rolled over to face him, with its moustached face staring with deathly white eyes right at him. He gasped. The others came over. Serov took one look at the body, without emotion, and nodded his head in response.

"That's him Allright."

He then pulled down his collar, and finding the cord around the captain's neck to which the key was attached to, he tore it off. He nodded again, though his expression never changed.

"Now let's get those goods. Rezinsky, Golikov, you come with me. Yuri, you stay with Yashin and Korenchenko. If you see or hear anything suspicious, investigate and notify me immediately."

And with that, Serov took his half of the squad through the passage heading aft, in the direction of the crew quarters, among which would be the Captain's cabin. In that cabin would be the safe containing all secret documents, and an access point to the _TK-95_'s main computer, from where the team could ensure that all data would be downloaded onto a disk they carried with them, and safely erase the data that remained in the computer.

It seemed like a simple task when they had been first informed of it – but now that the possibility of encountering dangerous dinosaurs and a possible American presence had entered the equation, they were highly cautious. They moved carefully and quietly along the corridor towards the officer's quarters, and found that the water that covered the floor became shallower as they got further aft until it only reached their heels. They pointed their guns in all directions, as if expecting an enemy to leap out from every corner. Some of the lights in the corridor were still functioning; meaning that they were able to remove their night vision goggles for now – though their naked eyes remained firmly alert. They reached the Captain's quarters soon enough, but they did not allow themselves to become complacent after reaching their objective.

Back in the main control room, Petrolakov's team were just as alert. Their eyes and guns were mostly fixed on the open hatch and ladder that lead down from the outside deck to the room they now guarded. However, they remained aware that a suspicious or even dangerous movement could come from inside the sub itself. They did not have to wait long for their suspicions to be aroused.

In the corridor full of those strange, big red pillars, it was rather cold and damp, particularly with the floodwater at high level in this part of the interior. Such conditions can play on one's nerves, senses, sinuses and most certainly health. Perhaps this was what led Spike to do what he did right at that moment – even though it seemed stupid and suicidal in the current situation the five dinosaurs were in.

Spike felt his nose twitch with irritation. For him, it was too much, and the cold and damp in this place made it worse. He breathed hard.

"Ahhh..."

Ducky heard him. She knew what was to come, and she hissed with horror.

"Spike no!"

"Aaaahhhhhh..."

The others heard Ducky and spike, and Cera and Littlefoot were just about to grip Spike's nose – but Spike reacted much more quickly.

"AaaaaCHOOOOOO!!!!"

The force of Spike's sneeze blew both of the other large young dinosaurs off their feet, while the noise echoed throughout the corridor, and could probably be heard everywhere inside the mysterious giant. When Littlefoot realised the two-leggeds would also hear it, his heart leapt into his mouth. Petrie shivered, causing his toothed beak to rattle with fear, while Cera groaned and what she had gotten herself into.

Inside the control room, the three Russians turned immediately to the source of the sound, down the forward passageway. The noise was so loud and instant that they had immediately reacted to it, keeping their wits sharp. Petrolakov breathed steadily.

"That sounded like someone sneezing."

Yashin cocked his sniper rifle.

"Probably some Yankee spy letting his guard down. I'll take care of him."

He was about to head down the passage and snipe whatever he came across down there when his superior stopped him with the back of his hand.

"We're not going to let that trigger finger of yours cause the next world war. Korenchenko!"

Pavel was stunned. "Me?"

"Yes you." Petrolakov was firm. The kid had to prove his worth, or he would never be accepted. "Go down there and check it out. Here."

He gave Korenchenko a radio headset, which he instructed him to wear.

"Use that to relay to me what you see down there. If you get into big trouble, call me and Yashin and I will come and pull you out."

"Won't have to wait long for that." Yashin muttered under his breath, resentful that he had again been denied the chance for some action. Korenchenko was nervous, but he was determined to prove himself.

"Don't worry boss" he said confidently as he could. "I'll be fine."

As he left the control room, he heard Yashin call after him.

"Don't go looking for the ship's cat."

He briefly wondered what his fellow squad member had meant by that, but then ignored it. He trudged his way along the flooded deck that was clogged up with the corpses of the dead crew, and bent over as he passed through the forward hatch. The red emergency light was flickering, providing just enough illumination to see without the night vision, which he tucked away back up on his forage cap. He did not let the rising water level stop him as he made his way to where he thought the source of the sound was. According to the schematics, it was an access corridor which contained all of the missile tubes, which in turn contained the massive nuclear missiles, with their multiple nuclear warheads, with each warhead containing four times the power of the Hiroshima bomb.

"Nuclear war in a can." He muttered when he reached it.

He found that the corridor was amazingly still lit with the regular lights, despite the fact they were barely working and flickering erratically. It was this flickering between light and darkness that made Pavel feel insecure about where he was. What if there was something hiding behind one of those missile tubes, or climbing above him on the ceiling? He looked around and saw nothing. He then called out, assuming that his quarry might be human.

"Hello? Who's in here? Come out and you'll come to no harm."

"Pavel, what's going on? Over." He immediately forgot he was hearing the headset, and replied to Petrolakov.

"Nothing yet sir. I'm in the missile bay – the sound came from here. The lights are still working – just. Over"

"Allright, carry on. Over."

He then though he heard some faint whispering behind one of the massive tubes. This caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand right up on end, like soldiers to attention. He cocked his stocky assault rifle, and reported quietly into the headset.

"I just heard some whispering. I'm going to check it out. Over."

He moved towards the tube, and was about to peer behind it when the corridor lights finally failed. He cursed quietly.

"Damn!"

Struggling to get his night vision goggles back on, he did not see what scurried behind the missile tube – until he felt it pass right by his legs. He yelled out, with his goggles not on properly, and let out a burst from his AK half-blind. The weapon roared, and he heard his rounds ping off the walls. He hoped they hadn't penetrated any of the missile tubes. He then heard screaming somewhere in the room – screaming of fear. It was then that he remembered what Yashin had said about the ship's cat – and what he had meant. How back at base before setting out the Spetznaz squad had all watched some stupid American horror movie about a horrible monster in a dark ship just like this. The young soldier now had visions of a terrifying alien with a curved head stalking him amongst the missile tubes. He felt ashamed, as a Spetznaz trooper, of the fact he was quivering with fear but he just couldn't help it. Then he heard Petrolakov's reassuring but strict voice through the comms. He then heard it again.

"Korenchenko! Answer me, what in God's name is going on down there? I heard you open fire. Over."

"Sorry sir, there's someone or something in here. I heard them scream. Over."

He spoke into the headset with evident panic. He then heard another cry before deciding he'd had enough. But he still reported his next move.

"I'm coming back to you now. Over."

He bundled back along the passageway, just about avoiding running into the missile tubes, before he ended back up in the Control room. He was greeted by a snarling Yashin, who grabbed him by the front of his shirt.

"You idiot! How could you be so stupid as to fire off live rounds in the missile bay? You want to blow us all up because you're scared of the dark?"

Korenchenko managed to get the courage to spit right back in Yashin's face.

"That's rich coming from you, you trigger-happy..."

"Allright break it up!" growled Petrolakov. He nudged Yashin aside and spoke calmly, with a patient voice.

"What did you see Pavel?"

"I heard someone whispering behind the missile tubes."

"I got that part, what happened afterwards?"

"The lights went out. It tried to get my goggles back on, but then something rushed right by my legs. I panicked and then let off fire, and then heard screaming – I'm sorry sir."

"Don't worry. At least we now know there's something over there. I'll go with you to check it out."

"Oh great" Yashin sneered. "I get to stand here catching trench foot while big brother chases the bloody bogeyman out of the closet."

"Watch yourself Ensign. As leader of this watch, it's my duty to check this out. Your job is to keep this position occupied. So do it!"

The ensign backed down, grumbling mutinously. Then the warrant officer heard his walkie-talkie sound off.

"Number two come in! Number two come in!"

It was Serov's voice. Petrolakov picked up the hand held radio and switched it into communicating mode.

"This is Number two calling number one. How do you read me? Over."

"Yuri, why the hell did we all hear gunfire at your end? Over."

"Korenchenko found something forward. I'm going over with him to check it out now. You probably should get back here as well. Over."

"We will, as soon as we're done here. Over and out!"

After that exchange, Korenchenko once more made his way down the forward passage, this time with his warrant officer in tow, leaving a grumbling Ensign Yashin to hold the fort back in the control room. He was guilty knowing that he felt more confident with either Petrolakov or Serov around – perhaps Yashin was right that Yuri was becoming his big brother after all.

They were soon back at the missile corridor, with their night vision firmly on this time, so that whatever had jumped Pavel would now be seen. But whatever it was, it was now once again hidden behind the missile tubes. Petrolakov mused.

"You said you heard screaming?"

"Yes sir."

"What kind of screaming?"

"It sounded human."

"Well of course it must have done, what else could scream?"

"He sounded afraid. I don't know if he was wounded when I fired."

"Well there's only one way to find out."

Petrolakov took a breath of anticipation before he called out. He presented the picture of a man unafraid, but in reality, he was rather afraid internally, having virtually no idea but what he was dealing with. The sooner he knew, the more confident he would feel.

"This is Warrant officer Yuri Petrolakov, Naval Spetznaz, attached to Soviet submarine K-128 _Rokossovsky_. You will reveal and identify yourself."

He got no response. He had spoken Russian, and if these were Americans he was dealing with, they might only speak English. He knew English – Spetznaz officer training included a foreign language course. So he tried that language.

"Come out and identify yourself. If you don't, we'll come and get you."

No sooner had that been said, when both men noticed movement from behind one of the big red tubes. They soon caught those who were moving from their hiding place in the beams of their torches. Though they could see them with night vision, they both lifted up their goggles so they could see these creatures with the naked eye – and they both stared in amazement. Before them stood five little dinosaurs, perhaps no more than a few years old. Petrolakov was quick to notice that they were of different species. One he recognised as a Triceratops, another a little duckbill. At the head was a long necked dinosaur, maybe an Apatosaurus. Yuri got the feeling this animal was the oldest. There was also a fat green dinosaur with a beak-like mouth and studs of bone along its back, which Yuri could not identify. Sitting on top of the young Triceratops was a rather fearful-looking pterosaur – he seemed extremely terrified compared to the others, who all seemed to wear fearful expressions on their faces.

Yuri thought it unusual that juveniles of five different species should gather together. But now that he knew that what Pavel had encountered were just animals and not Americans, he chuckled with amusement at the thought Korenchenko running in the dark away from a few young dinosaurs.

"That was what you ran into my friend. Just a few lost little lizards. Nothing to worry about."

Pavel sighed with relief. "How do you think they got in here?"

"Probably fell down the open hatch. Let's help them get back out – their parents are probably worried."

He was about to pick up the long-necked animal to carry it back our when something happened which seemed utterly surreal. The dinosaur let out a panicked cry, and pleaded:

"Please! Don't hurt me!"

"What the..."

Petrolakov was so shocked that he dropped the animal right back down into the water. Pavel tensed up and trained his AK right back onto the five lizards. Yuri did the same as soon as he regained composure – which didn't take long. Pavel was shivering as though he'd seen a ghost. He finally managed to stammer a question to his superior officer.

"Sir, did it just speak..."

"Yes, you heard it, and it spoke English!" Petrolakov snapped. He then breathed out with astonishment. "Now I have seen everything."

His mind was racing with wonder and confoundment, bedazzled by hearing that prehistoric animal speak just like a human. That should be impossible, he thought. Am I dreaming? This is unreal. And yet, there really was a talking dinosaur staring right up at him, sitting in the place where he had dropped it into the water just now. He and Pavel were now simply too frozen to speak, move or even fire their weapons. They just stood there, staring at these five extraordinary creatures, with their assault rifles fixed at them.

Littlefoot was just recovering from a state of shock after being picked up and dropped by that two-legged, as it had spoken that strange language. Staring back up, he saw that particular two-legged and its smaller companion staring right back down at him with steely eyes, which were also fixed on his four friends. They both clenched those strange, threatening looking objects in their strong hands. Littlefoot assumed those objects to be weapons of some kind, clearly the exploding one they heard earlier. Their skin was green and brown camouflage. Attached to those intimidating tools they carried was a source of light that gave out a bright, blinding white beam. It was just as bright as the flashing light on the mysterious floater – though even more blinding because it was constant and did not flash. The five dinosaur children were fully illuminated in these beams, picking them out from the darkness.

None of them dared move, already terrified by that earlier two-legged that used his exploding weapon, and the deafening noise that weapon made. Littlefoot's tiny ears were still aching and ringing, as were those of his friends. None of them spoke either – they were all too shocked. The two-leggeds spoke to one another briefly though, in that strange language none of the dinosaurs could understand, before they became equally frozen. It was a long while before Littlefoot could get the nerve to speak himself.

"Err...hello" he finally said. The two leggeds instantly tensed up once more. Littlefoot was highly nervous, but he continued, stammering as he spoke.

"You s-s-said we should i-i-identify ourselves. I'm L-Littlefoot, a longneck."

He then turned to his friends.

"This is S-Spike, a spike tail. D-ducky, a swimmer. P-Petrie, a flyer." If it was Petrie who was speaking, he would be stammering even more. Littlefoot turned to Cera.

"And this is..."

"Littlefoot..." hissed Cera.

"Cera, a Threehorn. W-we don't mean you any harm, if you let us go we'll..."

"Littlefoot!"

"Not now Cera."

"Don't tell them anything – they might kill us right now."

Just then the larger of the two-leggeds spoke – this time in leaf-eater, but with that distinctive, heavily discernable accent that they had heard earlier.

"Don't worry; we wouldn't waste our bullets on you."

At that moment all five young dinosaurs tensed up. He smiled, as if to reassure his five new acquaintances.

"Since you gave me your names, I'll give you mine."

He glanced at the smaller two-legged.

"He calls me 'sir', or 'boss', I call him 'trooper' or 'boy'. We're attached to the Red fleet submarine _Rokossovsky_, and we're here to search this wreck. That's all you need to know. What are you doing here?"

Littlefoot got the feeling that this two-legged was clearly not telling him everything, and evading questions he had. The two-leggeds were obviously operating under secrecy somehow. But Littlefoot decided that the answers he had got were the best he would get right now, so he gave his own answer to the question he was asked.

"We're doing the same as you – searching the..."

He was about to say "mysterious giant", but he now knew its real name.

"Wreck."

The big two-legged's gaze remained fixed.

"I see. Just the five of you?"

"Yes. You speak leaf eater?"

"Yes, we call it English." He spoke in a very suspicious, questioning tone. Littlefoot got the feeling he felt uneasy about what he had found. "I think you come with us."

"Why?"

"The CO will want to see you. And he doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Then Cera stepped in.

"Who's this _CO_?" she demanded, with fearful aggression.

"My commanding officer. I go where he goes, I sleep where he sleeps, and when he tells me to do something, I do it. And that includes reporting and bringing in lizards like you. Follow us!"

Cera was stung by the label "lizard", but being so close to these two big creatures and their exploding weapons, she knew that this was neither the time or the place for an argument. So she marched along with the others back down the corridor, with the big two-legged leading them and the smaller, more nervous looking one trailing behind. Neither she or Littlefoot asked any questions, they were still too agitated for that.

They eventually reached the room where they had arrived, and noticed that there was another two-legged standing there, with a stern expression. His exploding weapon was different. It was long, slim and black, and was also larger. Then Petrie remembered his mother's story of how she was nearly called by a two-legged with a long black stick. He could not restrain himself.

"It him!" the little flyer cried with fear. "The long black stick that nearly killed mama!"

Ducky acted quickly she had been sitting with Petrie on Spike's back when they arrived in the room, and she was now trying to restrain her friend from flying manically around the room in attempt to escape. She also reassured Petrie calmly.

"Petrie, you must not go crazy, or he may go for you, he will, he will."

But the two-legged had noticed, and tensed up, making a clicking sound with his weapon. He then asked a question of the first two-legged who had spoken in a bewildered voice. They were clearly not used to hearing dinosaurs speak. That first two-legged answered in a calm voice, clearly as best he could. The other one settled down, but kept his weapon fixed on the dinosaurs.

Then the first two-legged (whom Littlefoot guessed was senior to the other two that he could see) took out a black box from his side, made a clicking noise and spoke into it. To the five dinosaurs' amazement, another voice came out of this box – though it still spoke that alien tongue, so they could not understand it. But its owner sounded tough and gruff, and his tone reminded Cera of how her father sounded a lot of the time. Eventually the voice cut off. The senior two-legged, the "boss" turned to them.

"Is he coming?" asked Littlefoot.

"The lieutenant will be here shortly."

"I thought he was called the CO." Said Cera.

'Sir' bent down towards her. "'Lieutenant' is my other name for him."

And with that he returned to his fixed position, looking like he was permanently alert and on watch. Sure enough, three more two-leggeds came through another opening in the other side of the room. Illuminated in the glow of the two-leggeds' weapon lights was one that seemed to stand out from the others. Not only was he slightly taller, he also had a different symbol imprinted on the strange rectangular pads on his shoulders, which were present on the "boss" and on the two-legged who held the long black stick. Attached to his torso were many shining objects, mostly coloured red and gold, which gave a slight jingle as he moved. Littlefoot even thought he could see that symbol with the two strange objects among those excessive decorations. The expression on his face struck the five young dinosaurs instantly as being cold, hard and without emotion. His eyes seemed to blaze with dark fire as he regarded them. A strong presence of respectful fear seemed to engulf the other two-legged creatures, while a different kind of fear gripped the dinosaurs. He walked over to them with steady strides, before coming to halt right in front of them.

He then turned to the first two-legged, the "boss" whom Littlefoot guessed was probably some sort of second-in-command. He then barked something to him, probably a question. The other gave an answer, which was responded by a brief nod. Those eyes of stone then turned back to face the youngsters. The "CO" put his hands behind his back and began to slowly walk up and down in front of them, keeping his eye on them the whole time. Littlefoot guessed that he was contemplating his next move. Cera guessed that he was playing mind games on them. He was keeping quiet for now but looking tough and keeping them anxious at the same time – psychological torture. Her father sometimes used it on her, when he was really mad with her. He finally came to a stop and spoke – but not in leaf eater. His words were brief, and when he finished, he nodded to his second, who translated.

"The lieutenant understands that you were found in the missile bay. He considers this a reason for suspicion."

Ducky quickly answered (bravely for someone her size), and tried to take the soft approach, as was her way. She smiled while talking, with her usual sweet and charming mannerisms.

"You should not be suspicious, whatever that means, you should not, you should not. We do not know what a missile bay is. If you let us go, we will go home, and we will not tell on you. You should believe me, yep, yep, yep!"

The second-in-command smiled briefly – anyone could be moved by Ducky's sweet and innocent nature. But obviously not the CO. His expression remained more intimidating than ever. The second was about to relay what Ducky had said, before his senior threw up a hand which silenced him. He then slowly lowered his hand back down behind his back. He spoke again – but this time in leaf eater. His tone was just as steady and emotionless, and his words just as brief, as when he had spoken in his own language.

"First tell me what you are all doing here."

The dinosaurs were surprised to hear him speak leaf eater, except Cera. She knew this was another form of psychological pressure – he had suddenly changed language to keep them on their toes, just like a grown-up would both use animalistic growls and normal speech when intimidating another. They could all tell that the CO's tone and posture was designed to be intimidating, perfect for an interrogation. Littlefoot plucked up his courage and answered the question.

"We've never seen this wreck before. I-It wasn't in our valley before. We came and explored it. Like Ducky said, we don't know what a missile bay is."

"How convenient."

"It's the truth, I swear!"

The CO lowered his tone and put a hand on his chin, as if pondering what to say next. Littlefoot wondered whether this dark personality was just an act, or this characters true personality. He spoke again.

"How is that you are talking?"

"What do you mean?"

"I didn't think dinosaurs could talk."

Then Ducky spoke again.

"We did not know two-leggeds talked as well. We talk except Spike; he does not talk much, yep, yep..."

"Silence!"

The cold response sent a chill up Ducky's spine, and she hurriedly hid behind Spike's head. The lieutenant once again but both hands behind his back. He then began speak a little more quickly and loudly, as if to make sure the dinosaurs paid attention.

"We are here to keep the secrets of this wreck away from our enemies. And now my deputy has found five young dinosaurs in a restricted area, all of whom speak our enemy's language. Suspicious, indeed."

"We did not know that was the case" said Littlefoot, now genuinely frightened. "We don't know who your enemies are."

"So you say. We have suspicions that our enemies may be present in this area. Perhaps they found you, animals that could speak their language. They would think you would not arouse our suspicions, and would make very good spies."

"We're no spies!" butted in Cera. "This is ridiculous, you can't scare us. You're just trying to look tough to get an answer you want."

The CO instantly turned towards her, his face as screwed into a truly frightening pose, the expression of a sharp tooth with its prey in view. His tall stature made this even more frightening. If looks could kill, Cera thought, terrified, I would be dead right now.

"Don't try to second-guess me!" he snapped icily. "You don't know what you've got yourselves into. Naive, easily persuaded to be scouts for the enemy. I've seen your type before. You easily break under interrogation."

His eyes burned with cold fury, and his look was as hard as the coldest, most solid ice. The dinosaurs were very frightened, but Littlefoot still plucked up his courage, albeit under heavy pressure.

"Believe me, we're not spies. We're just kids. What would we know about the mysterious giant?"

The CO raised an eyebrow. His face and voice calmed.

"So you have you own name for it."

"Yes, and we don't know anything about it or your enemy, I swear!"

"Maybe you do, and maybe you don't. I'm not sure what to think, based on what you have told me."

Petrie, surprisingly enough, got the courage to speak up.

"Does this mean we go home?"

The two-legged's face hardened again.

"Did I say you could?"

"We no come here again, we promise!"

"I'll make sure you don't come here again. Since you haven't fully co-operated with us in giving us information..."

Littlefoot tried to speak up, but his words only came out as a terrified whisper.

"But we..."

" ...and since we still do not know for sure why you are here, we will take you back with us to our boat for further interrogation. Our Captain will decide what to do with you."

He gestured to his second-in-command and the youngest two-legged, who climbed the silver bars back up through the opening to the outside. The CO then looked at the dinosaurs before pointing to the hatchway.

"Up the ladder!" he said firmly.

The others did as they were told. Either they were too blatantly terrified to answer back, like Petrie, or they decided to stay quiet for now in the hope that they would not be singled out by this domineering CO as troublemakers. Only Cera offered resistance.

"You can't take us, that's kidnapping! How dumb can you get to think we're spies? My daddy will come and stomp you!"

She was suddenly silenced when the CO grabbed her by the neck, and raised her up to his face. He then turned to the two-legged who held the dreaded long black weapon.

"You see him?" he whispered. Cera nodded. "He's just dying to try out his weapon on anything that moves. One more sound out of you, and I'll let him use you for target practice. Understand?"

Cera nodded, too frightened to say anything. The leading two-legged placed her on the ladder.

"Now climb. I don't want to keep the Captain waiting."

Cera did as she was told. So did the others, not wishing to provoke the lieutenant any further.


	11. Chapter 11

**Land Before Time – Voyage through time**

**Chapter eleven**

_Planet Earth, over 65 million years BC_

_Edge of new water, Great valley_

The special force squad moved quietly down the mountainside and onto the rocky shore where they had left their boats. They moved with the caution, speed, stealth, skill and efficiency which had been hammered into them by months, even years of brutal training and hellish combat experience. When they had been fighting that endless war in the Hindu Kush mountains, they had known the value of moving like the shadows. A single sound could result in the death of the whole squad at the hands of the mujahedeen who prowled those mountains. Worse, it could result in their capture, along with all the accompanying torture, mutilation and execution that characterised being a prisoner of those so called "holy warriors". In these strange yet somewhat less hostile mountains, that same rule applied. The difference was it could lead to them becoming the meal of a carnivorous dinosaur or successful kills for any Americans who might have got here first, as far as they were concerned.

One great difference between them and their young prisoners was that the dinosaurs viewed the great mountain ranges as their friend, keeping their lush green paradise safe from sharpteeth and the other terrible dangers that both themselves and the grown-ups had faced during their perilous journey to the great valley. To their captors however, mountains could be places of death and destruction, in which the seemingly omnipotent and omnipresent _dukhi_ had been able to strike and confuse their forces with ease, and suddenly melt away and disappear when the Red army tried to fight back. They took the same view of these mountains – even if the enemy was different.

Three of the dinosaurs, Spike, Cera and Littlefoot, were each held being goaded along by the butt of the two-leggeds strange weapons, with one dinosaur to each two-legged, while the second-in-command had gently placed Petrie and Ducky into two separate pouched holders around his waist. Petrie had been highly apprehensive about this, while Spike was panicking at the thought of being separated from his adopted big sister, but the second had been patient, and calmed them down with soft words. He told that it would be quicker and safer if both of the little went into the pouches. The dinosaurs had reluctantly agreed, and the second had then seemingly confirmed to his leader that they were ready to disembark.

Soon enough they left the mountains and arrived on shore. The two-leggeds remained quiet and focused as ever, with two of them taking up point at a position facing inland, training their bizarre weapons in all directions, while the others prepared those things that floated in the water. Littlefoot was impressed at their calm and focus while moving and holding position, as they seemed to be ready for virtually anything – even sharpteeth. The only one who showed any sign of nervousness was the one who had found them in that strange place they called a "missile bay". Littlefoot got the impression he was much younger than the others by many cold times. The other two-leggeds seemed like they were more used to facing danger and death on a regular basis, but the young one seemed to be thrown into something he otherwise would not have been involved in. Littlefoot was surprised, but he actually began to feel pity for that strange creature.

Cera, however, was more focused on that "CO" and his second. The leader seemed to be every bit as tough and brutal as the toughest Threehorn. He had already installed great fear of him into her, and that healthy fear seemed to be prevalent among this band of two-leggeds. Was there any emotion hidden within that creature of stone? She doubted if she would find out, as he had seemed really angry about the dinosaurs being inside the mysterious giant. But what kind of reasoning would lead them to suspect that she and her friends might somehow be connected to their enemies? She had a feeling she would soon find out, and she was dreading that. Right now, she noticed that the CO and his sidekick seemed to be in some form discussion. Although they were whispering and speaking softly, it seemed quite heated. But of course they were speaking in their own dumb language and she could not understand a word of what they were saying.

Lieutenant Serov and Warrant officer Petrolakov were indeed in heated debate. Yuri could not understand the need to bring these five unusual prisoners in for questioning. While it was he agreed it was truly incredible, and would that he would otherwise consider it impossible that they could not only speak but also speak a language identical to English, he did not think that automatically meant they were linked to the Americans.

"These are five children." He said, gesturing to them. "For all we know they may have just stumbled upon the wreck and got curious, like children usually do. Maybe we should just release them and let them go home."

"And compromise our presence here?"

"We would still be compromised if we took them back to the sub. Their parents would come looking for them. We could always let them go now, before swearing them to silence - they're afraid of us enough already."

"And what makes you think they'll keep their word once they leave us? Yuri, you and I both know that this situation is unusual and suspicious. We've both seen kids as young as five act as scouts for the enemy in Afghanistan, so why should it be any different here?"

"We don't know if the Americans are here at all."

"You know that we would not have been dispatched to this wreck at all if there was a serious risk of a security breach. So we have to consider the possibility that the enemy might be here."

"And what do you think these things are? American science experiments? Perhaps the Yanks taught them English, or maybe mutated their brains so they could speak English, is that you're thinking?"

Serov betrayed a slight, yet rare smile. Petrolakov was a damn good soldier, but a good soldier and officer had to be prepared to consider every possibility, and be prepared to face just about anything or any situation, however unusual or dangerous. There were certain things Serov considered highly improbable, but even the improbable could be possible, as the voyage through the tunnel and the encounter with that underwater monster had proved to him.

"It's a slim possibility. But my belief is that they were probably capable of communicating anyway. The Americans may have stumbled onto the tunnel, as we did, and found dinosaurs that could talk. They may have persuaded these creatures to scout the wreck for them, in the hope of avoiding a direct confrontation with us once they learned we were coming. They may have thought we would just view of them as normal animals."

"If that were the case then the Yanks made a poor choice of spies. They spoke and revealed their names to us the moment we found them. If they were spies, they would have kept quiet to pass themselves off as everyday critters, as you said."

"Well, we must consider the fact that they appear to be quite naive. It seems to me they may not know what they got themselves into."

"Exactly! So it's highly unlikely they were involved with the enemy. There's no sense in taking them back with us."

Serov smiled lightly.

"I think the real reason, Yuri Andreieveich, is that you feel that taking them with us is immoral. You don't want to hold kids prisoner..."

"My sensibilities are not the primary reason sir, but..."

"You needn't worry. We are simply bringing them in for questioning. We do not know if the Americans are here or not, and they can help us clarify."

"What about the adults?"

"They'll get their kids back - soon. They won't be able to give us much trouble out at sea, anyway."

It was a considerable debate before they finally agreed on a course of action. Eventually Petrolakov decided his commander knew best. But as well as feeling bad about taking young kids prisoner (that was what they effectively were, despite not being human), he was annoyed that they should have to burden themselves with them. For him, taking these dinosaurs prisoner was an interference with the main mission. The squad's duty should be focused on that wrecked sub – nothing else. Still, if Serov said jump, Petrolakov had to say how high. He could advise him on a course of action to try to change his mind – but in this case he was unmovable. They began to load the five young creatures into the boats, with Serov snapping orders to his troopers.

"Split them up! Those two go with me," he gestured to Littlefoot and Cera, "That other big one and the small fry go with warrant officer Petrolakov."

Littlefoot and Cera were carried into the CO's boat. Littlefoot's back leg slipped and he fell into the salty water. It was shallow, but the waves bumped him about quite a bit on the rocky shore, until two strong hands lifted him out and placed him in the boat. The young longneck noticed that it was the young two-legged who had picked him out. This creature now asked him something, but it was still in that strange language. Littlefoot guessed he probably didn't know any leafeater, or "English" as they called it, so the second-in-command spoke for him.

"He wants to know if you're OK."

"I'm fine. Thank you."

"We can't stay here long." said the CO. "Into the boat now."

Littlefoot obeyed. He noticed that the mood and treatment that he and his friends were receiving from these creatures seemed to be one of varying levels of hostility. When they had first met the second in command, he had spoken to them in a relatively calm and friendly manner. Then the atmosphere had changed in an instant when the CO had first interrogated the dinosaurs, where they had sensed much suspicion and even anger towards them. When they had been lead down the small mountain pass the two-leggeds had been relatively indifferent, and hardly spoke. They were more focused on making sure the passage was safe, and to them the dinosaurs were just objects to be carried. Now he had just been lifted out of the waves by a two-legged, which proved to him that they were not unconcerned for their well-being – they probably wanted their prisoners alive.

Cera hated the big water, and she didn't like floating on something in the big water much either, such as a log. In any case, it was guaranteed she would feel heavily sick when travelling across the water on anything, especially in those strange, rubbery floaters that were waiting on shore. They did not seem stable to her. She knew she wouldn't stand the inevitable bobbing and rocking of the sea, but she was not given a choice. The two-legged guarding her simply bundled her into the floater. Spike was put into the other one, which the second in command took position in, with Ducky and Petrie still secured in his pouches. He now let them out into the bottom of the floater, where they stayed with Spike. They knew they had no chance of escape, and neither of them would try to swim or fly away while the two-legged's weapons were in their hands. The young two-legged took position in that same floater, while the CO and the one with the long black weapon took their position in the floater that held Littlefoot and Cera. The latter groaned – this would be even worse than that sea crossing to Chomper's island.

The CO gave an order, and the other two creatures in his floater used long, paddle shaped objects to push themselves away from the shore, and began to row further out. The other floater followed suit. The waves began to become choppier as the floaters progressed further out into the sea, and the rocking motion became worse – as did Cera's sea sickness. Littlefoot looked at his three-horned friend pitifully as she began to show shades of green and covering her mouth with her front feet. She looked worse than she had done the last time she had sailed the big water. The CO, as ever, was indifferent, and did not even listen when she groaned uncomfortably.

"I hate the big water...I really do...Let me go and I won't throw up..."

But the lieutenant's gaze was fixed firmly straight ahead. He was entirely focused on his task, his face as hard as ever. He would not be distracted by a disgruntled prisoner. However, that clearly did not apply to the other two creatures. The one who cradled that elongated instrument of death noticed Cera's newly found colouration, and began to snigger, and then possibly telling the other one that they were in for a show. Cera was determined not to allow those horrible things the chance to crow over her discomfort. She did her best to hold the bile down, for an impressively long time. But in the end she decided it was not worth it.

"Oh what the heck..." she said queasily. She then moved groggily towards the side. The two thuggish two leggeds grinned. A second later, Cera threw her front end over the side and retched. This prompted a fit of mean, mocking laughter from the junior two-leggeds. The laughed and pointed just like Hyp, Mutt and Nod would sometimes do with the gang back at the great valley. First they mocked her in their own language, and then the one with the long weapon, a burly, moronic looking creature laughed and pointed amusedly at Cera, cackling words of broken leafeater.

"Dinner? That dinner, _da_? Your dinner! You swim? Go get it!"

Cera did her best to ignore all this. She was burning with rage – both at herself and at these rotten people who she was now stuck in the middle of the big water with. She now swore she would never sail the big water, and never come up with another stupid idea, like searching a mysterious wreck, ever again. She would (and she hated this idea with a passion) from now on do everything Littlefoot told her, and never question his judgement. She would run away when faced with a band of creatures with exploding weapons, and fight with them if necessary. She imagined her father watching her retch over the side of the floater, and shaking his head in disdain at the fact a Threehorn, his daughter no less, would show such lack of stomach. He would be particularly ashamed of her for being intimidated so easily by the CO. She always asserted that she would never show fear, but she could not help but show it in bad situations. Now she was not afraid – but totally humiliated.

Littlefoot looked at her pitifully. There was nothing she could do to retaliate, or nothing he could do to intervene. The stranger's exploding weapons would silence them instantly. But then the CO barked something, and they were silenced. He then turned to Cera.

"Take it easy. Once we reach the sub, you should feel better."

He said this without emotion before turning back, focused on course. Littlefoot noticed the pendulum had swung again – first back to bad treatment and now back to relatively fair recognition of the dinosaur's dignity. Littlefoot hoped it would stay there. He then got the confidence to ask a question.

"What's a sub?"

The CO said nothing, but simply pointed to the dark shape that lay on the horizon – the other mysterious giant floater. It looked even more foreboding now that they were out on the big water with it, more so than any swimming sharptooth. It stood there, a black island jutting out in the middle of a blue sea like an unnatural sore thumb. And they were heading straight for it. Littlefoot and the others felt feelings of dread build up in them, having no idea what they would find themselves in – or whether it may result in their deaths. What was even worse was that they could do nothing about it.

_Soviet Navy submarine K-128 K.K. Rokossovsky, Alfa-class SSN_

Captain Rankov watched the horizon carefully, and not just through binoculars. His boat was equipped with state of the art navigation computers, which many would assume to have made the more old-fashioned, traditional navigation obsolete and unnecessary. However, Rankov knew that it was not advisable to rely on new toys completely – even the best navigation computer in the world could sometimes be wrong. He had heard and been told so many times that it was now cliché – the best computer in existence is the one inside your head. So, to ensure that all the navigation figures calculated by the computer were accurate, he checked his position using a sextant, measuring the distance between his boat and the shore by focusing on the horizon, and plotting that exact position on the chart. He liked to ensure that his basic seafaring skills did not rust while passing the time. Right now, he was waiting for the return of his Spetznaz team, and was voluntarily maintaining a constant watch for them, even though his officers had told him they might take a while. He did not care – he wanted to ensure that his men came back safely. The watch still circulated for the lower ranking officers, but the Captain stayed on the conning tower that whole night.

Soon the early morning watch would arrive. Rankov looked at his watch. Yes, they should arrive any minute now. The conning tower watches usually consisted of four men, but since the Captain was maintain a constant watch, that number was reduced to three men at different times. The next watch due was...the Captain looked at a clipboard. 3rd class Captain Anatoly Vivienko, one of the lieutenants from down below, and none other than Captain lieutenant Vladimir Mishin. Oh well, thought Rankov, maybe he'll be quieter on deck watch. If he starts speechifying, maybe if we ignore him he'll stop.

Mishin was late for that watch. The lieutenant arrived, on time as always, with Vivienko leading the way. With a smile, Rankov's second officer clicked his heels and saluted, before giving a good-natured nod.

"Good morning Captain."

"Good morning number two. Is the political officer planning on joining us?"

"The political officer sends his apologies sir, but he is temporarily delayed. I am happy to inform you that it is not due to the fact that he has a husky throat as a result of excessive speech making, but because he is struggling to pull on his boots."

The lieutenant gave a snigger. Rankov smiled and smirked, but he thought it best to avoid relations between his officers becoming too awkward.

"Take it easy number two. We all serve the union in our own way."

"I'm serious sir; he is struggling with getting his costume together."

The lieutenant laughed out loud. Rankov did not get that joke, and he was about to give a rebuke when the political officer appeared. The Captain struggled to hold back the temptation to laugh in his face. They had arrived in a relatively warm environment since leaving the tunnel, and as such they only wore their regular uniforms to keep cool. But Mishin was now sporting a grand greatcoat with a ushanka on his head. The flaps on the furry hat were folded upwards, but it was totally out of place in a warm climate. In that context, he looked absolutely ridiculous. No wonder Vivienko had made a joke at his expense. But the Captain tried to remain professional as he could.

"Comrade Captain lieutenant, why are you wearing light winter clothing?"

"I thought it necessary for an officer to be fully prepared and presentable on duty."

"We're not on parade. On active duty, you only wear what you need."

"Thank you Captain. But I shall be quite comfortable."

"As you wish Comrade. Carry on."

The sniggers still echoed. Many on the boat wondered if Comrade Mishin even knew how he came across. Still, many regarded him as a slippery fish and an arrogant sneak, who often assumed total authority in areas he should have had none. It was recognised by everybody that as the party's representative commissar, he had the authority to remove the Captain or any other officer if he and the party felt it necessary, and if he suspected treason. Rankov knew that Commissars, party agents and secret policemen had a way of making you feel so paranoid and threatened that they could accuse you easily of being a traitor. Mishin had certainly made him feel that way, particularly when he revealed that a certain part of the _Rokossovsky_'s orders were reserved only for him, and by the way he just seemed to believe he had authority of everything and everyone. Still, he would have to maintain a clear head and stable leadership when dealing with this commissar, if he wanted to build some sort of trust.

It wasn't long before the Captain's thoughts were interrupted. The lieutenant pointed towards the water off the submarine's port side, and cried softly:

"Two points off the port bow!"

It was upon seeing the two inflatable special operations boats that Rankov let out a sigh of relief. The Spetznaz had returned safely, without having to go through the emergency flare procedure, without letting off rounds, and without picking an unnecessary fight with anybody or anything – or so he thought. His hope that their mission had gone totally according to plan without any anomaly were promptly killed off when he took a look through his binoculars, and saw what they were carrying in their boats. The lieutenant also noticed, his eyes widening with curiosity.

"They look like dinosaurs sir. Young ones, at that."

"Indeed. Looks like Serov decided to take some prisoners."

"Hard to believe he would take any prisoners" Vivienko quipped, "but I guess he decided to make a change for once."

Rankov did not react to the joke this time. This situation was now hardly light-hearted. He had expected Serov to go in stealthily, and retrieve what he needed to retrieve without causing any disturbance. Now, he had taken several young dinosaurs prisoner, who undoubtedly had parents in that valley. The adults would certainly be ruffled, and would probably go looking for their kids, and would probably congregate more around the wreck site. That would make the mission all the more complicated.

"Great", he thought, "now we have angry dinosaurs to deal with. Not to mention we can't contact command, as we're now wherever the hell we are. Now what do we do?"

The political officer, however, seemed unperturbed.

"Comrade Serov would not have taken them if he did not think them suspicious."

"And what makes you think them a cause for suspicion?"

Mishin fell silent. The Captain decided that he would question Serov's motives in taking those creatures. He wondered if Ensign Yashin was still after things he could shoot or sell back home. Despite the Soviet Union's official anti-free enterprise system, there was an underground black market full of exotic and disreputable goods, and equally disreputable characters. It was so large that it was never fully suppressed, and it kept cashing in high profits outside of the state's centrally planned economy. It had grown stronger in Russia and Eastern Europe as the official economy had stagnated. Rankov did not consider it highly unlikely that one or two of the Spetznaz team might have links to this illicit market. A living or dead dinosaur would probably fetch a pretty penny and make them internationally famous. Yashin might not be able to shoot a Pterodactyl, but he would have baby dinosaurs. The Captain suspected this, and if this was the case, he would not tolerate it. They were not here to pick up trophies to sell – such an act would be considered a breach of secrecy that this mission was under. No one must know of the activities the _Rokossovsky_ had undertaken.

Serov's boats arrived soon enough, and soon the Spetznaz and their unusual prisoners were all aboard. The men climbed up the crude foot and hand holds into the conning tower's bridge, where the captain and his watch stood. As they did this, they ushered the five dinosaurs upwards, until they too arrived at the top of the conning tower, regarding their captors fearfully. Rankov studied them closely. Each one was of five different species – a triceratops, an Apatosaurus, a duckbill and a stegosaurus. All looked frightened (especially the pterosaur), and the triceratops looked like it had yet to find its sea legs. Once again, different species of dinosaur seemed to be integrated, which most scientists would not have expected. The Captain wondered if dinosaurs were not the simple, lumbering, unintelligent reptiles of popular myth. Maybe they had more intelligence than met the eye...

But Rankov had no time for that. He was strictly business-like, and dealt with his first priority. He turned away from the dinosaurs, and looked at lieutenant Serov sternly.

"Did I ask for them, comrade lieutenant?"

"No sir, but I suggest we question the prisoners at once."

"Prisoners? They are nothing more than animals, baby animals. The adults will be angry with us now!"

"Comrade Captain, I insist we question them. We found them skulking around the wreck and..."

"They can talk." Warrant officer Petrolakov spoke so suddenly that it caught everyone off guard. Then the Second officer burst out laughing.

"Talk?!" spluttered Vivienko. "I think you guys watched too many animal cartoons when you were kids! Are you trying to pull some kind of joke?"

"I insist Comrade" said Serov, now somewhat irritated "That my deputy is telling the truth, and so am I."

"Prove it."

The Spetznaz lieutenant nodded calmly. He then spoke to the long necked dinosaur, which was a surprise enough – but what was even more shocking was that he spoke in English. Then the biggest shock of all came.

"Please, don't hurt us!"

The dinosaur had spoken – in clear English, no less. The Soviet officers stared in disbelief. Rankov's eyes widened, and his mouth opened in astonishment. Vivienko's lips pursed in utter disbelief, and his eyebrows shot up. Mishin's eyebrows crossed, and his eyes stared daggers of disturbance. The junior lieutenant however, could only faint. His body struck the deck with a clang. Rankov immediately ordered two of the Spetznaz troopers to take him the medical bay. But he could not take his bedazzled eyes of the five little reptiles. They could speak – and in English. How was that possible? Were the dinosaurs more intelligent that palaeontologists had assumed? Were they intelligent enough to communicate? If so, why in English? But now he understood the Spetznaz team's grounds for suspicion. They must have concluded from the fact the dinosaurs spoke English that they were somehow linked to the Americans. Rankov disagreed with that assessment, but he now understood Serov's motives.

However, the lieutenant was misguided. There had been no signs of the Americans in the vicinity, and it was very far-fetched that they might have taught the dinosaurs English somehow, or had engineered them that way as a science experiment. He considered it more likely that their language of choice sounded like English by a massive coincidence. They were just the prehistoric equivalent of local children stumbling upon a piece of military equipment and then exploring it and playing on it, despite the fact their elders may have told them to stay away from it. It was no different from children in a war-torn country playing on derelict tanks. Rankov decided, as a superior officer, to stamp out Serov's assumptions.

"I know what you probably thought when you found them. And you're wrong. There are no Americans here, just curious little lizards."

"I thought it best to report and bring anything suspicious to you sir."

"Well, I don't think this is suspicious. We'll have their parents looking for them now. Take Petrolakov back with you in that boat and put them ashore, as quickly as possible."

"With respect sir, we have to consider every possibility. They were found in the missile bay - we have to address this."

"So what now then?" Vivienko's sharp wit was on time as always. "The gulag?"

"I believe _sir _that we should question them to see if I'm right." Serov was clearly irritated. The Captain did see why he would have reason to be suspicious, but the second officer clearly saw it as laughable. He carried on with the joke. He spoke to the dinosaurs in clear Russian, (rather than in the few English words he knew) so that his fellow officers could understand the point he was making. He tipped his officer's cap in mocking respect to the dinosaurs.

"It is an honour to meet the CIA's newly formed dinosaur division! It is so sad that Comrade Serov will have to shoot you as spies!"

Rankov couldn't help letting a smile appear, though the Spetznaz CO was clearly not amused.

"_Sir_ I insist..."

"And I insist _lieutenant_ that you are wasting our time. You may well have compromised the mission. Do as the Captain said – return them to the shore!"

Vivienko always adopted a serious stance when he felt subordinates were beginning to step out of line, and Serov was no exception. But then Mishin stepped in. The other two officers guessed what his position would be – and they were proved right.

"I can sympathise with our brave comrades' suspicions. I share their suspicions myself. I think it would be prudent enough to question these..."

He looked down at the young dinosaurs. Most rational people would probably have not assigned the label he then assigned to them.

"...these possible espionage-engaging subversives."

Vivienko just laughed again. But the Captain maintained his business-like demeanour. It was necessary to maintain it when dealing with a critical situation such as this.

"You share their suspicions?"

"Yes comrade. I wish to question them myself."

"That'll be rich." murmured Vivienko obviously. Mishin pretended not to hear.

"I have sufficient English for such questioning. I will be happy to provide an answer to such nagging suspicions."

The Captain was now lost in thought. On the one hand, the suspicions that these dinosaurs were part of a threat, real or imagined, seemed misguided. Every rational thought told him it made more sense to put these youngsters back ashore so they could return home – if they were found absent by the adults, that could mean serious trouble. He knew that parents do not react well to having their young taken from them, for whatever reason. On the other hand, if they questioned the dinosaurs quickly, they could release them afterwards without too much trouble. They would probably learn more about where the _Rokossovsky_ was, the lie of the land, the state of the _TK-95_, and possible threats in this area. Rankov also saw it as necessary to not be on permanently bad terms with the political officer, despite the fact that most of the crew considered him an annoyance. If he was given a role, he would be appeased and he would be actually making his contribution. Rankov weighed the pros and cons. It was not an easy decision, but he came to it. He gestured to the Spetznaz troopers.

"Very well. Take them down below and lock them in the storeroom. You should find a dog cage in there to keep them in. Captain Lieutenant Mishin will see to questioning presently."

Admiral Nevsky had expressed his intention to the Captain that after he returned from this, his first patrol, he would award Rankov with a Russian spaniel, to keep him company and give the _Rokossovsky_ a mascot. "Every good officer" the Admiral had said, "deserves a good dog." Nevsky himself was very fond of dogs, owning a pair of Siberian huskies. In preparation for the future arrival of his own pet, The Captain had kept a dog carrier in the storeroom until he needed it. It would be adequate for holding the dinosaurs for now. It would not do to have them running around during questioning. The troopers obeyed the order, shuffled the dinosaurs down the ladder that lead from the conning tower to the deep bowels of the hull. They had the sullen and terrified look of innocents being lead to execution. The young female Triceratops, however, did not look like she would go down without a fight, and put up a struggle when one of the troopers goaded her down the ladder with his rifle barrel.

"Stop prodding me with that!" she yelled in English. "You've got no right!"

Soon they were down below. Serov and Mishin followed close behind, in order to begin the interrogation. Rankov was left alone with his second officer, who then promptly spoke up.

"If you ask me sir, putting those things back ashore would have been the right decision. The political officer will probably overdo it, like everything else..."

"Then why didn't you raise your objections the moment I began to change my decision?"

Vivienko paused. The Captain had challenged him, and he was now thinking carefully. He did not want to feel to berated.

"You are the Captain, Sir. I respect your decisions. It is my duty to follow your orders. I was simply indicating my current status. I will always obey you."

"Always." mused Rankov. "A very dangerous word, Anatoly."

Vivienko fell silent. He wondered if he had embarrassed or offended the Captain. Maybe he felt that he was challenging him our sucking up to him. He was a sound Captain, but he seemed to have a restless mind. Maybe that was just because he was new...

The second officer snapped out of his thoughts – the Captain had spoken again.

"Tell you what, number two", he said with a slight smile, "Why don't you go down there and check on comrade Mishin's progress. I'm sure if he overdoes everything, as you put it, you will no doubt be able to keep him on the right track. After all, you would probably want to see that the CIA's first dinosaur division comes to no harm, would you not?"

Vivienko gave a broad smile, and the captain returned it. He really does have my sense of humour after all, thought Anatoly. That is well.

"Of course sir, I will come to their defence if needs be!"

And with that he made his way down the hatch. Captain Rankov gave a sigh of relief and calmness. He then stared out on the horizon. The sun had not yet risen, yet the faint light on the eastern horizon and the fading stars told him daybreak was near. It was probably four in the morning at least. Yet he still did not feel tired after constant watch – duty seemed to overrule body. Soon the sun would rise, and he would get another view of that beautiful green valley and the blue waters of this warm, tropical sea. He then realised that he had not finished taking bearings. He picked up his sextant, along with his notebook, pen and compass. He found the horizon and Zenith once more, along with the relative positions of stars and sun, and returned to his calculations.

**Dear Readers,**

**I must apologise for not being able to finish this by the end of the year. As with all of us on fanfiction, life can always stand in the way. However, I post this chapter at the beginning of 2010 to tell you all – I will finish this, comrades. Provided I keep getting reviews! I will finish this – expect to see more chapters after this one. And they will get better.**

**Keep faith comrades!**

**HG Wells**


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